


Wrong

by seductivefeline



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Incubus Bakura, M/M, absolute smut fest, incubus, past!Bronzeshipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:19:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seductivefeline/pseuds/seductivefeline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marik, fresh out of an abusive relationship, is ready to forget through a night of mindless, hardcore sex. When he meets a strange man who calls himself "Bakura", he slowly finds out that there's a bit more to him than meets the eye... Incubus!Bakura. AU. Thiefshipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hypnotized

**Author's Note:**

> I've always enjoyed the concept of incubus!Bakura (or any demon!Bakura really). It won't be entirely accurate because an incubus (or as much as we know about them) wouldn't behave like how Bakura will act in this fic. Don't take to whole concept too seriously.
> 
> I'm sure everybody is aware what an incubus is, but just in case, an incubus is the male equivalent of a succubus. They are demons/supernatural entities that take the form of a man order to seduce humans (normally women) (but Bakura is too gay for that) and have sexual intercourse with them. It is said that repeated sexual activity with a succubus or incubus may result in lowering of health or even death.
> 
> o o o - change in character POV
> 
> ... - time/scene shift of same character

A choked sputter escaped his lips as thick, brown liquid slid its way down his throat. He slammed the glass down onto the mahogany surface of the bar, a heavy scowl taking his features as he signaled for what would be his third shot of the night. A minute later, a glass was put down in front of him, and within moments the liquid from the glass was gone down his gullet. He briefly considered a fourth shot, but decided to hold off and see how the night went. With that, he leaned heavily against the bar, his darkened lavender gaze scanning the area around him.

Presently, Marik was sulking in a less-than-favorable club, his mind beginning to buzz with the influence of alcohol. However, it did little to lift his rather unpleasant mood. As he lowered his head, his lips curled in distinct disgust. He was very far from a good mood at the moment, given the way he was arched over the bar while flexing his fingers and glowering at anybody that got too close, including the bartender, who had come to claim the now empty shot glasses. He continued to brood, glaring off into the crowd of people on the dance floor, all enjoying themselves and having fun while he fumed in his own, dark corner. His mind continued to plague him with visions of spiky golden hair and sun-kissed muscles, causing his lips to curl in disgust once more. The image danced behind his eyelids, drawing out a sigh of furious irritation.

He never wanted to see that disgustingly smug face again. His fingers curled into his palms, short nails driving into his own soft flesh. Within his mind, there was a quick flash of lilac eyes similar to his own, and that was the breaking point. He gestured for another shot and downed it in record time. The liquid burned all the way down to his throat and into his belly, where it seeded into a blooming warmth that overtook his gut. He let out a wrenching sound as the glass was slammed against the bar, and he hunched over, letting the disgusting feeling of acidic warmth settle.

Marik never could handle his alcohol well. However, he ignored the limitations of his own body in an attempt to drown out the ever-growing resentment that pooled within him.

Fuck him, he growled internally to himself for the hundredth time within that hour alone. He would never tire of thinking it. In fact, each time the angry statement fleeted across his mind, the pool of hatred grew.

He can go to hell, he added bitterly for good measure, narrowing his eyes to slits as his vision blurred for a moment. The alcohol was taking its effects, causing vague vertigo and replacing his anger with a light feeling. He let the effects take him, gladly welcoming the absence of bitterness and letting it be replaced with buzzing bliss.

He let out a drawled sigh that turned into a light giggle, before he pushed away from the bar and sauntered out onto the dance floor. This was what he came for, after all. To forget that psychotic idiot and to let himself relax. As a haze blanketed over him, he raised his arms and wedged himself into the tangle of sweating bodies.

o o o

It was a prime location for prey, really. His hips swayed in a languid manner as he sauntered into the building, being met with music that filled both his ears and chest, blasting within his very ribcage. Pink lips rose into a slight smirk as he slid down the dank hallway and out into the main part of the club he had come to. The air around him was dampened from sweat and super heated from the sheer amount of people that had come out that Saturday night.

He tipped his chin back slightly, sliding over to the bar and ordering himself a drink. Not that he really needed anything; his body had an inability to be drunk. That didn't stop him from enjoying some hard liqueur, though. A quickly consumed a few sips of the burning liquid before setting it down and allowing his eyes to sweep over the crowd. Dozens of bodies writhed around, hips rolls and shoulders swaying. It was a scene he knew all to well, and had come to appreciate.

It was a bisexual club, so anybody was up for grabs, but Bakura definitely preferred the delicious rock-hard muscles of a man as opposed to the flimsy, noodle-limbs of a woman. As his gaze grazed the rippling bodies of the dancing males, he found that none were jumping out at him. However, that was okay; he had all night, after all. It was only a matter of time before these people became drunk off of alcohol or high off of dancing and would become easier pickings for him.

He took another drink of his alcohol, leaning against the bar and letting his seductive maroon eyes connect with a random man's who happened to be passing. The man had decided to go topless to show off his impressive muscled body. His belt-less pants were falling just beneath his hips as well. Bakura tipped his head, his gaze flickering over the sweaty body before he deciding that the stark-white abdomen and thick muscled arms were just not doing it for him.

The man, who noticed Bakura's sudden disinterest, gave a haughty huff and sauntered away. Apparently he thought the scrawny white-haired male wasn't worth his time, however, in reality was the other way around. Bakura didn't give a damn about men who didn't appeal to him right away unless he was desperate or looking to get a quick blow-job in the back-alley.

No. Not tonight. Tonight, he had every intention of getting plowed.

With that thought, he downed the last of his drink and allowed his glistening eyes to slowly shift through the crowd once more. A few bodies caught his eye, but none jumped out at him. Giving a slight noise of annoyance, he figured actions would speak louder than his gaze, and he abandoned his glass, slipping towards the dance floor in a smooth amble. He allowed his hips swing to and fro as he walked, drawing a couple of stares from males and females alike. However, the ones that were looking at him were not prey-worthy. He didn't even offer them a fleeting smirk or wink as he brushed by them, moving sleekly into the crowd of dancing fools.

Arriving just in time

Who's dying to be mine?

Once he was being pressed against on all sides by writhing, sweating bodies, he allowed his languid movements to become noticed even more so. His tight, dark gray jeans outlined his well-toned bottom as he swayed it back and forth, his hips rolling to the heavy beats of the song that had started.

Let me survey the scene

Good fight, now keep it clean

He closed his eyes for a moment, only to open them with the utmost care. They remained slightly lidded, though he allowed them to be full of alluring need as he raised his arms a little, running his hands through the back of long, stark-white locks. His chest came forward, and he could feel the gazes of the other dancers switch to him as he began moving. His movements were expert and captivating as his narrow hips swung back and forth in a smooth and tantalizing manner. The subtle curves rolled sensually with each beat of the song. He allowed the music to flow through him, controlling his seductive and fluid motions with each flick of his wrist and swing of his ass.

How will this evening go

Two lips to crack the code

He caught somebody staring, and he rose his lips in a smirk and gave them a wink before turning away, allowing his hips to roll once more, the music pouring over him like a blanket of desire. His body quickly became slick with perspiration as he tipped his chin back, allowing the high of the situation to soak into him. The writhing bodies and the booming music began to sink into his skin, giving him an almost euphoric feeling. He had done this ritual many times before, and his body could sense what act it would be participating in later that night.

Then now above them all

I hear the silence call

Up until now, the bodies around him simply brushed against him, covering him in their disgusting sweat, but suddenly he felt a body from behind grind into him. The body rolled into his, flesh hot against him despite the layers of clothing. Bakura swiveled his body backwards, his hips melding against the mysterious dancer behind him. He let smirk take his face as the definitely male body rutted into his behind. He allowed the other dancer's hands to attach to his hips, ghosting over the clothed flesh in a sensual manner. It sent hungry shivers up his body.

It's a melodic, erotic, hypnotic kind of dance

The way the music controls you and the touch of your hand

Bakura found himself spinning around, blinded momentarily by a flashing light. This did little deter him as he ran his own hands keenly down his body, ignoring the blindness that quickly dissipated into a few spots in his vision.

A pair of glistening lavender eyes met his own umber gaze.

Mesmerized by your eyes and the way you move

We can dance all night to this hypnotic groove

Bakura shifted forward, being tugged by an unknown gravitational force, his body moving as smoothly as liquid as he closed the space between the owner of the unique gaze. Through the flashing lights and his own haphazard arctic bangs, Bakura made out a light brown angular face and a long yet handsomely sculpted nose. The nostrils flared as the man groped for air in the suffocating tangle of euphoric bodies.

As soon as [s]he caught my eye

Now lingers up your thighs

His lips quirked upwards in appreciation as he moved into the man of his current interest. He gave his hips a roll and boldly rutted against the other man, not bothering to hide his desires as he stared in a flirtatious manner. Lilac eyes, though lidded and blurred with the influence of alcohol, managed to concentrate enough to regard the man that had so audaciously ground against him. Tanned lips went upwards in a smirk, and he pushed his hips forward eagerly, rubbing himself against the other man.

To you I gravitate

Can't help but to delay

A pair of hands ghosted over his thighs up to his hips. It sent more needy tingles through his body despite the layers of clothes separating brown digits from his hot, pallid skin. Purposely biting his lip to add a desirable effect, he gazed longingly at this stranger, allowing his sexual charm to come off of his body in waves. The two shared heat as Bakura leaned in, rolling his hips to meet the other's yearning grinds.

Keep moving if you dare

Surviving almost there

Bakura's waist swiveled in expert movements; his hips flicked from one side to the next, moving rapidly to the beat of the song that was currently playing. The beat filled his veins, causing his blood to race at an alarming rate. The crimson satin button-up was already free from the top few buttons but he still reached up with tantalizing fingers and flicked another button from its hole, revealing more of his stark-white chest that glowed in the flashing lights. The mystery man bit his tanned bottom lip as he watched the action, his eyes raw with lust.

That cool that's on your lips

I'll break it with my hips

The paler man smirked as he watched the other; the look on his face was delicious and priceless. Bakura reveled in his reactions as he continued to draw his hands up his own body, up to his hair, where he ran his fingers through the tangled strands before he flicked his head and flipped the untamed locks. The action rid his face of annoying bangs for the time being. He allowed himself to lean in further, deep into the other man's personal space and ground his hips and his chest into his subtly toned body.

It's a melodic, erotic, hypnotic kind of dance

The way the music controls you and the touch of your hand

The other took grip of his hips again, drawing his palms down across his thighs and to his ass, which he boldly groped. The pale man licked his lips at the delicious contact, though he didn't allow himself to touch the other male yet. Instead, he let this stranger touch him all over, his fingers being controlled by the beat of the music.

Mesmerized by your eyes and the way you move

We can dance all night to this hypnotic groove

As Bakura swiveled, he allowed his gaze to drift down the other man's body. His sweaty skin was shimmering bronze in the obscure light, while his tight, black tanktop was plastered against his moistened chest, hiding nothing. The muscles underneath were subtle, causing small yet attractive curves that made the pale man lick his lips. He wanted his tongue all over this man he decided, as his gaze raked over strong arms. The stranger's hips didn't move as fluidly as his own; his hips were more square, making his movements wide and jerky. This Bakura did not mind; the sloppy motions had their own desirable charm.

It's your melodic, erotic, hypnotic hold on me

Captivated by your sexuality

He was locked in now. He allowed his body to become lost in the lovely sensation of being touched all over and to be ground into. He continued to gyrate, showing off his assets through effortless, enticing actions. The other was staring at him with hunger glistening deep within his blurred, lavender irises. He had a drunken haze about him, but he obviously had enough cognitive thought to recognize the sexual God dancing against him.

Yeah, don't back up now, feel the rhythm of two

We can go all night to this hypnotic groove

Bakura came forward even more, pressing his heaving chest against the other, his eyes glittering dangerously. They shared the same air now, hot breath washing over each other's faces as they ground close. The paler man still kept his hands to himself, touching his own body and moving them to the music, though not for long. The smirk on his lips grew as he mouthed the words to the song breathlessly, rosy flesh moving in a smooth and tantalizing manner. The way his mouth hovered over the other man's was meant to be teasing; he was not about to kiss the stranger. He never kissed a one night stand.

Entranced now by your eyes

You've got me hypnotized

Hypnotized...

Hypnotized...

Hypnotized...

Hypnotized...

He drew his pink tongue over his fleshy lips before whipping around, pressing his ass pointedly against the dancer's crouch and gazing back at him provocatively. He rolled himself backwards to rut his buttocks and back against the other, his fluid hips moving seductively against the other man's crouch. A pair of brown hands found Bakura's hips once more, and within a few motions, they were grinding in unison together, movements perfectly synced with each other.

It's a melodic, erotic, hypnotic kind of dance,

The way the music controls you and the touch of your hand

As he moved his body, he bent his knees a little and reached behind him to wrap his arms around the other dancer's neck. The action forced the other man to move closer and to grind his whole front against Bakura's backside. He shivered deliciously as he felt the hot body against his own. It was then that the other made a bold move and removed one his hands from Bakura's gyrating hips to remove Bakura's hair from the side of his neck. Then he felt hot lips.

Mesmerized by your eyes and the way you move

We can dance all night to this hypnotic groove.

His moan was drowned out by the booming music as he tipped his chin to the side, allowing the pair of supple lips more access. Several delectable trembles passed through his spine as the hot flesh sucked at the soft, sensitive surface. To coax more of these bold actions, he carefully aimed another hip-roll backwards, purposely rutting up against what Bakura knew was a hard-on. The other dancer shivered into his back, the brown digits on his waist tightening exceedingly. A husky moan brushed against Bakura's exposed ear and he shuddered at the heavenly voice of the other.

Melodic, erotic, hypnotic hold on me

Captivated by your sexuality

He became lost to the insatiable sensation of the dancer's hot mouth against his neck, the hard-on rutting against his behind, and the hands that were greedily groping at his thighs. His fingers ran through the other mane's hair, and with a quick flick of his gaze, he conformed the long locks were the color of golden hay, which made his partner even more exotic.

Yeah, don't back up now, feel the rhythm of two

We can go all night to this hypnotic groove

Hands continued to explore his body, drawing up his thighs and hips before slipping under the thin fabric of his shirt. A trill-like noise escaped his throat as strong fingers found the bare skin of his front. His body jolted with euphoric electricity at the skin on skin contact. His body eagerly responded to the delicious touches; he arched his upper back into the other dancer's and pushed his abdomen forward into the pair of searching hands. His skin twitched desperately under bronze palms and brown digits that grazed his pallid flesh

It's a melodic, erotic, hypnotic hold on me

The way the music controls you and the touch of your hand

A moan bubbled against his throat when the hands trailed down his front, growing ever closer to his groin. Fingers came down to the front of his jeans, daring to brush against his crotch. The light contact was enough for Bakura to snap his eyes open and roll his body eagerly into the awaiting palm with a wild groan that was lost in the music.

Mesmerized by your eyes and the way you move

We can dance all night to this hypnotic groove

He turned to meet his dance partner chest-to-chest once again, his chocolate eyes gazing with undisguised lust. He locked his arms around the others neck once more, allowing his hips to gyrate freely against the other man's. Using this moment, he studied the other man once again. He took in every glistening angle of his handsome face; every luscious movement of his enticing bronze body.

It's your melodic, erotic, hypnotic hold on me

Captivated by your sexuality

Bakura wanted his tongue and hands all over this insatiable body. His face was close as they breathed the same air, his mouth hanging open as he regarded the other through lidded, wanton eyes. The other dancer was staring back with blatant desire pooling in his lavender irises. His pink tongue flicked out to slowly trail across his fleshy lips, leaving a glistening path of moistness in its wake. He kept his gaze locked with Bakura's, a devilish smirk developing on his light brown features.

Yeah, don't back up now, feel the rhythm of two

We can go all night to this hypnotic groove

The action pooled arousal into Bakura's lower regions, much to his disdain. To become so turned-on in such a short while was unheard of for the white-haired man. However, he went along with it, allowing himself to rub against the other man's front again, making his lewd desires obvious. His eyes glistened dangerously as the other man shook against him, hands eagerly trailing up and down his sides.

Entranced now by your eyes

You've got me hypnotized

Hypnotized...

Hypnotized...

Hypnotized...

Hypnotized...[1]

They continued grinding as the song faded out. Their gazes remained locked, mouths inches away from one another. Bakura, after a few moments of enjoying the high they were in, finally twitched his lip upwards.

"What's your name?"

This caught the other man by surprise. He looked as if he were calculating the question – as if he had forgotten his own name – but then he responded confidently.

"Marik. Why does it matter?"

The husky voice of the other man sent shivers down Bakura's spine, adding more desire into the quickly developing pool of arousal. The pale man wrapped his arms a bit tighter around his narrow neck, drawing the other closer so he could lean forward and whisper into his partner's ear, his hot breath brushing the sensitive skin.

"Because that's the name I'm going to be screaming, Marik."

He drew back to see the reaction, and he certainly wasn't disappointed. The other stared at him with undisguised shock and lust.

"That's a bold statement," he finally growled in a slurred manner, his hands finding Bakura's clothed butt cheeks. "How do you know that's going to happen?"

Bakura gave a scoff, "Like you could fucking reject me." He rutted up against the other body, his eyes glistening dangerously.

"You're pretty fuckin' confident," Marik drawled hotly.

"It's one of my best qualities," Bakura returned, narrowing his eyes.

"Tch." The other simply replied, "I'd have to say this is actually." He gave the ass he was groping a generous squeeze while licking his lips.

Bakura gave a moan, "You haven't even seen it."

"I will."

"Oh?" A smirk came across his lips, "Does that mean I was right in my assumption that I'll be screaming your name tonight?"

"...Shit," the other grumbled, mostly to himself.

Bakura sniggered, pushing himself toward against the other, "Let's get the fuck out of here, then." His smirk grew wild, "Somewhere a bit more private? Unless you want to continue here..." his fingers slid devilishly down Marik's body, meeting the hem of his jeans.

For a split moment, the other man looked as if he was going to consider going down on him right there and then, but he suddenly backed away, much to Bakura's disappointment. He stared at Bakura with strangely clear eyes despite his obvious drunken state before responding.

"My flat is nearby."

He then turned and trailed his way through the crowd. Bakura smirked eagerly and hurried after him.

And now it's time to feast.

o o o

Marik could hardly believe he was doing this. Here he was, dragging a total stranger – whom he didn't even know the name of – into the elevator that lead up to his floor. The walk to his complex had been very quick and desperate, broken only by impatient quips and lewd retorts. He was quickly finding that this stranger was extremely cocky and feisty – it reminded Marik painfully of him. Though, with each petty quarrel, he found himself becoming more and more turned on.

By the time they were off the elevator, it took Marik all of his strength to not jump the man in the hallway. He certainly could – however, he didn't want to get bitched at by the grumpy elderly couple next door or be thrown out of the complex. So, he restrained himself as he approached the door of his apartment, groping for his keys.

...When he didn't find them, he panicked.

"Looking for these?"

Marik whipped around and saw the stranger was twirling the key ring in his finger, a brow cocked upwards and a snide grin on his lips. With a snarl, Marik ripped the keys from his partner.

"What the hell?"

The other shrugged, "You weren't paying attention. It was easy pickings. Now hurry up."

"Don't tell me what to do." He slurred with a glare before his shoved his way into the apartment. "I –"

Marik couldn't even start his sentence before the other was on him, pinning him against the wall and eagerly attacking his jeweled neck. He gasped at the assault, but quickly melted at the incredible touch of the other man, his hot mouth exploring the entirety of his throat. He groaned, just barely remembering to reach out and shut the front door before he turned his full attention to the paler man.

He wasted no time groping the other's front, ridding him of the satin button-up that made him so unbelievably attractive. Brown fingers explored the stark-white front of the other. Marik took a moment to appreciate the stranger in front of him, who was gazing at him with undisguised, intense lust. He licked his tan lips, drawing his hands up and down the scrawny chest of the other man. He didn't have much muscle about him, but his thin body gave him an entirely different appeal. His lanky limbs and thin hips looked so ravegable it made Marik's mouth water.

"Like what you see?" The other asked, his eyes glistening in the dim of his darkened flat.

"You have absolutely no meat on your bones," Marik chastised, a scowl on his face.

"That wasn't a denial," he retorted with a victorious smirk.

"Shut up." Marik hissed as he grabbed the stranger by the wrist and dragged him none-too-kindly down the hallway. He pushed his way into the bedroom, which was swathed in shadows. The only light came from the dazzling city of Domino outside the grimy window.

"Nice bed," the other snorted as he yanked his wrist away and sauntered over to it, regarding the purple satin fondly. "I'm going to enjoy getting fucked into it."

The lewd comment went straight down to his crotch, but Marik chose not to reply as he strode over to the other, whipping the other around and licking his lips. He was intent on kissing the other, but instead, the paler man tipped his chin back, giving Marik a silent invitation. He gave into the request, attacking the other man's neck with his hot mouth. The other welcomed the assault with a groan, his fingers greedily groping at Marik's tank top.

Marik growled in response to this and detached his mouth from the other man, only to give him a rough push onto the bed. The other was taken by surprise and landed unceremoniously against the messy sheets. He went with it though and laid back on the mattress, fiddling with his belt and buttons while his partner yanked off his shoes and socks. Within moments, the paler man laid in nothing but tight black briefs, the front bulging with his straining manhood.

Marik bit his lip, coming down on the man hungrily and grinding into him. The other moved his wonderful body with the same perfection he had at the club, only this time, Marik could see the way his bare, stark-white skin rippled. His unmarred skin was smooth beneath Marik's searching fingers. While the tanner man touched his partner all over the place, he was busy shoving his hands down the back of his pants, giving his bare bronze ass a fond grope.

He hummed almost dreamily in response before shoving the hands away, glaring at the other man through drunk, angry eyes. "Wait 'til I take them off first."

The other scoffed, "Hurry the fuck up then... unless you want me to do it for you." There was a devilish glint in his eye as he licked his lips, "With my mouth."

Marik swatted him on the chest, "I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself." He began fumbling with his belt while he attempted to kick off his shoes at the same time. He succeeded in making himself look like a drunken fool before he finally lost balance and ended up on the shag carpet, moaning about an aching ass.

His partner let out a boisterous laugh, clenching his stomach as Marik glared daggers at him, "Oh man, either you're a fucking idiot or you're drunk off your ass."

"Shut up!" Marik snarled, kicking off his shoes and socks before standing up, giving the other man a haughty stare, "I'm not an idiot or drunk. I meant to fall."

He blinked before letting out another cruel laugh, only fueling Marik's temper. "You're both! You're a drunk fucking idiot!" He hooted, rolling around against the sheets.

Marik hissed, pouncing on him and swatting his chest, "Shut up, God, your voice is fucking annoying! And so is your laugh!"

"Annoying...? Or sexy as hell?" The change in his voice was immense as he deliberately lowered it the tone, allowing his maroon eyes to become half lidded. He stared up at Marik, seduction glittering in his irises.

Marik growled. Now he was just annoyed because the other man's voice was as sexy as hell. He swatted him again, though not as hard. "It's still annoying," he responded venomously.

"My, my, you act similarity to a child," the other cocked a white brow. "How old are you?"

"That doesn't matter to you."

"Tch. Probably not old enough to drink – that explains why you obviously can't handle your alcohol."

"Oh my God, shut up. I dragged you here for sex, not banter!"

"Oh, I don't know about that," the other began, lifting a finger and dragging it across Marik's neck, causing him to shiver. "I'm finding all of this quite..." he rolled his hips upwards, causing the tanner man to tremble, "...arousing."

Marik bit his lip, continuing to glare down at the other man. "That only makes one of us."

"Oh? Only one?" He tipped his head to the side, disrupting the arctic pool that framed his face against the bed sheets. "That what's this?" His palm found the front of Marik's pants, and he gave a violent shudder. "I don't think that's a packer or a wad of socks in there."

Marik's glare was weak now, much to his disdain, "O-of course it isn't."

"Was that a stutter? Am I right?" He let out a cruel laugh, "Are you actually a woman?"

Marik's temper flared, "Of course I'm not a woman! Do I even look like one?!" He gestured to his entire body wildly. Obviously he was not picking up the joke.

"For all I know, you could be on hormone therapy," The other continued to mock.

Marik sat back and got off the bed, "Hormone therapy couldn't do this," he growled, ripping off both his pants and boxers in angry fistfuls.

"O-oh... no... no it can't," the other smirked as his hungry gaze raked over Marik's swollen length. It was only then that Marik realized the other had been playing him. He let out an angry sigh, coming forward and grabbing his partner's briefs, violently ripping them off. He grinned victoriously when he saw he was noticeably bigger, though the other didn't seem very ashamed about that fact.

"I can't wait to have that in my ass," the other commented shamelessly after a moment of openly staring at his ever-growing manhood. The sentence had been so bold and provocative it made heat rise to Marik's cheeks and his cock jump in a fresh wave of arousal.

Marik leaned over him, taking a moment to enjoy the fact he was about to have sex with somebody other than him. Strangely, being with the same man intimately his whole life didn't cause him to be shy, though he fumbled a little. He wasn't used to leading, but he found very quickly that he liked it. He loved the way the stranger's body wriggled beneath him as he latched his mouth to a pallid collarbone, dragging his teeth and lips down across his chest.

He sucked at a pink nipple, taking the sensitive nub in his mouth. The other man responded well, tangling his pale fingers into blond locks and giving them an eager tug. It hurt, but Marik ignored this and instead bit down on the bit of sensitive flesh in his mouth, grinning internally as the other man cried out shamelessly, pushing his chest up greedily.

Marik found as he went that the stranger certainly loved being bitten. Eventually, a majority of his beautiful chest was covered in developing bruises and hickeys. The marks trailed lower and lower, halting right near the other man's area of need. Marik pointedly avoided his area as he lifted his face and chest, his chin covered in saliva.

The other man was anything but modest in his responses. He had no qualms about letting himself be heard; with every little touch, he drawled out long chains of moans.

"God, you never shut up do you?" Marik asked as he licked his lips, tasting the stranger on his tongue.

"Nope." He responded breathlessly, "Now why don't you put that mouth where it matters."

Marik regarded him for a moment, his brows furrowed."Tell me your name first."

The stranger's eyes glinted with suspicious surprise before he scoffed, "There's no reason for you to know my name."

"Oh, and there's a reason for you to know mine?" Marik asked, sitting back on the stranger's hips and crossing his arms.

"I already told you the reason why I need to know your name..." his tone lowered, and his smirk grew, "...Marik." He finished in a sultry manner, causing Marik to shiver violently with desire.

"Just tell me your name!"

The stranger shrugged, resting the back of his head against his interlocked hands. "Nah."

Marik grumbled irritably and got off the other man, "Whatever. I'll get it out of you. Turn around." He then turned away and began digging around in his nightstand.

He raised a brow, but he followed Marik's directions. Once he was on his stomach, he shamelessly spread his legs and exposed what never saw sunlight. He arched his back, pushing his ass off the bed and sticking his cheeks in the air, staring back at Marik with a seductive glint in his maroon eyes. The tanner man put his palms to the soft cheeks, massaging the tender flesh with his fingers. He bit his lip, using one of his hand to spread the cheeks fully apart while he used the other to flip the cap off the bottle he had retrieved from his nightstand. He held the bottle above the exposed entrance and allowed the thick yet opaque goo to spill over it. The stranger shuddered as the cold goop hit such a sensitive area.

Marik kept his palm pressed against his cheek, but rubbed his thumb against the hole, massaging the ring of muscle and sliding lubrication across the flesh. His partner groaned, moving his hips against Marik's ministrations. Then Marik shoved his thumb in, digging his slick finger deep into the awaiting entrance. The paler man hissed at the sudden intrusion, the muscles tightening around Marik's finger.

"I'm sure you've done this often enough to know to relax," Marik scoffed, his glare going unseen by the man who had his face buried into the purple sheets.

"Excuse me, are you trying to tell me how to have sex?" The other cruelly laughed, casting a glare over his shoulders.

"I'm just telling you to fucking relax."

He pulled his thumb out from the heat, this time covering his fingers in the lubricant before shoving them through the tight barrier, enjoying the hiss of pain that came from the other man. A crude sneer on his face, he scissored his fingers, stretching the hole open.

The other man was shaking, but much to Marik's surprise, there was a sadistic smirk on his face. He looked back at Marik, his tongue flicking out to moisten his rosy lips, "If you're trying to hurt me to get leverage, it isn't going to work."

"God, you freak." Marik scoffed, shoving his fingers into the tight warmth down to the knuckle. Soon, the other man was properly prepared, and Marik slid his fingers out. He reached over to the nightstand, riffling through the drawer until he tugged out a little packet.

The other man rolled partially onto his side, glaring at the condom Marik was opening. "Don't bother with that. I hate those."

Marik looked at him patronizingly, "I'm not getting some sort of fucked up disease from you."

He scoffed, "I'm clean. Don't bother with that, I fucking hate them."

"Well that's too damn bad."

With a growl, the man flashed forward and snatched the packet away. Marik's eyes widened, "Hey – give that back, you ass!"

He laid back on the bed, holding it far above his head as Marik crawled over him, reaching for the rubber with a trail of angry curses leaving his lips. The other snickered cruelly, kicking him away with surprisingly strong legs. He tore at the condom with his canines, successfully ripping it in half and throwing the torn pieces to the ground.

Marik narrowed his eyes and snarled, "That was the one I had you idiot!"

The other sat up and sniggered cruelly, "The only one you had?"

He jumped to his feet, his fists clenched, "I had a steady partner up until now; there was no reason for them!"

"Tch." He rolled his eyes, fixing Marik with an irritated scowl, "Calm the fuck down. I'm clean, I swear. And it's not like I'm going to be getting pregnant, so there's no point in wearing one of those useless devices."

"Like I know you're clean," Marik scoffed in disbelief as he finally stood up from the floor.

"You wound me, Marik." He replied, tipping his head in mock offense. He laid his stomach against the bed again, spreading his legs once more. He gave Marik an almost bored look – one that made his blood boil – and raised his brow. "You gonna fuck me now or not?"

Marik bit his lip, trying to ignore the way his cock jumped in fresh arousal at the enticing sight in front of him much to his annoyance. In all honesty, he was ready to kick out this infuriating man and just forget about the whole thing, but through his drunken mind and aroused haze, he decided to grab the lube and kneel on the bed behind the stranger.

"Get on your hands and knees," he commanded none-too-kindly, reopening the bottle and applying a liberal amount to his length, shuddering at the sudden contact.

The other obeyed without qualm, crouching on his knees and elbows, spreading his legs and exposing the slick entrance. Marik took a grasp of his own erection with one hand, and spread the cheeks even wider with the other. Still fueled by all of the irritation he had been succumbed to, he wasn't gentle as he pushed his way in, barely giving the stranger a chance to adjust once he was completely sheathed. He felt the passage tighten around him as the other man quivered, letting out a long, low groan.

"F-fuck..." He growled under his breath, causing Marik to smirk in triumph.

He grabbed both of the other man's pallid hips, digging his palms into the protruding bone, and allowed himself to move out until only the head was lodged in the suffocating heat. With a quick jerk, he was completely sheathed again, and the man below him grunted, his fingers curling into the sheets. Marik let out a low moan of his own, becoming captivated by the tight heat that surrounded his aching need.

He dug his fingers into the other man's hips, feeling his stubby nails nearly pierce skin as he began setting up a rhythmic pace of movement. He dug his teeth into his bottom lip, biting back the groans that threatened to erupt from his throat. He refused to be as vocal as his partner, who had yet to go even a second without letting out some sort of pleased moan.

"Fuck – fuck – fuck," he was groaning into the bed sheets, not shy about showing his pleasure whatsoever.

"God – do you ever shut up?" Marik panted irritably his skin beginning to become moist with a fresh wave of perspiration.

"I believe we established that I don't." The other man snorted, his hips rolling back to meet Marik's in a sloppy slap of flesh on flesh.

Marik groaned in a combination of exasperation and gratification, pushing forward with a wave of extra power, letting his emotions slip away, only to be replaced by instinct. All his hurt, all his hatred and all his anger that he had experienced lately washed away. It became replaced with a growing feeling exactly as he jerked into his partner, letting the overwhelming heat suck him in. Any and all irritation melted into pleasure. He pushed out a throaty groan through his lips, absolutely loving the tightness that was surrounding him. It was no wonder his previous partner enjoyed to lead.

With the fleeting thought of him, he let out a growl, throwing his hips forward with even more fervor, causing the one below him to let out an extra harsh cry.

"Yes – right there – do it again." He commanded huskily.

Marik tried to remember how he did it. He aimed again, this time sliding in a downward direction like he had prior. Like his previous thrust, his length rutted up against his partner's sensitive gland, and his whole body shuddered. Another trill escaped his lips, and his toes curled against the sheets.

The sight was truly one to behold, and Marik couldn't help but give a victorious smirk. Now that he had found the 'sweet spot', he had every intention of hitting it with every thrust of his hips. The smug grin still on his features, he threw himself forward, aiming for the spot as often as possible. The man below him did nothing to disguise his overwhelming pleasure as he mewled and writhed. His fingers groped at satin, and his back quivered.

"Faster – fuck – Marik!" The other hissed, pushing his hips back to meet Marik's.

Hearing his name shouted caused him to shiver eagerly. Attempting to gain more leverage, he put his palms to his partner's back and pushed him onto his side against the bed. His length slid out, and they both let out a disgruntled noise at the loss of intimate contact. He threw one of the other man's stark-white legs over his shoulder and thrust into him again, fucking him on his side.

The position had been shifted in a moment of desperation, and once he re-entered the suffocating heat, he let out a husky moan. The man beneath him truly knew how to move to meet his own thrusts, his body moving as fluidly as water.

When he had first spotted him on the dance floor, he had been absolutely mesmerized by the way he was moving, it had been impossible for him to ignore such a beautiful, unique looking man. When he gyrated his hips and ran his fingers through his long hair, Marik's breath had gotten caught in his throat, and his mouth had gone dry. He wanted nothing more than to touch the fabulous ass that swung in expert, fluid movements. And so he approached him, and in a bold move on his part, he rutted against him, at once becoming captivated by his movements.

And now, he was fucking him senseless into the bed. His previous discomfort and hatred he had been feeling just a couple hours ago had melted away entirely. All he knew now was his partner's glorious, insatiable heat.

"Faster," the other panted, barely managing words between his groans. He pressed the side of his face against the bed, his lips curling back in uncontrollable moans, "Ah – Marik! Fuck."

Marik bit his lips, driving his hips forward. His thrusts became shallow and quick as he aimed solely for his partner's prostate, hitting it roughly with each swift movement.

"What's – what's your name?" Marik asked breathlessly, somehow managing to form coherent words in his haze of lust.

The other groaned, "Marik."

He growled, suddenly halting, his length halfway inside his partner's passage. He fixed him with a glare – though it probably didn't look like it given how fuzzy and lidded his eyes were. "Your name isn't Marik."

"For fuck's sake," the paler man growled, looking almost deranged in his sudden anger, "It doesn't matter what my name is. Just fuck me."

Marik grunted. He was stubborn by nature, but gratification was so close... he sighed impatiently, but he began his movements again, at once picking up the rhythmic pace he had lost.

The smirk came across his partner's face again, and he let out a contented moan. He wrapped his fingers around his length and began jerking in timing with Marik's thrusts, his whole body blushing with overwhelming heat and arousal.

Release was growing close, but part of Marik wanted to hold it off as long as possible. He wanted to enjoy an explosive orgasm at its highest potential, but there was no way he had enough self-control to hold out. He threw his hips forward, groaning at the tight heat that sucked him in with each thrust. His nails dug into his partner's pallid thigh in a desperate manner as he groped for leverage to go even deeper, to move even faster.

A pool was welling within his lower regions. He could feel it grow, pressing forward, pushing him to the edge. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting himself become lost in sensation as the pool came forward in a violent orgasm. Hot semen filled his partner as he rode out his orgasm, a long, pleasured groan pushing through his lips.

His partner moaned, licking at his lips, "So hot – ah –!" He bit at his lips, jerking his palm even quicker to come to his own violent release. His semen ended up all over his stomach and Marik's sheets as he laid and quivered in the remaining moments of his high. Meanwhile. Marik pulled himself out, grunting as a thin stream of liquid followed, only adding to the mess on his bed sheets.

He rolled onto his back and struggled to catch his breath. His chest heaved with effort for a few minutes, sweat still covering his body. His partner was doing the same, but he recovered far quicker, and eventually rolled over to stare directly at Marik, who just gave him a perplexed look.

"Bakura."

"What?"

He rolled his eyes, his next words coming out almost as a growl, "I'm not repeating myself."

"Bakura?" Marik tried the name on his tongue, enjoying how powerful and attractive it felt. "Is that your name?"

"Gee, what the fuck do you think?"

Marik smirked at the quip, putting his hands behind his head as 'Bakura' shifted his position so that he was sitting on Marik's hips. He leaned down, licking his lips, "You ready?"

Marik looked confused again, "For what?"

"Round two."


	2. Under My Skin

Painfully loud knocking forced him from his uncomfortable sleep. A groan escaped him as filtered light entered his sensitive pupils. He squeezed his eyelids shut, desperately groping for the sleep he had just been so rudely pulled out of. However, the fog of sleep had been replaced with piercing pain that was quickly spreading across entire head. The headache pressed against his front lobe to the base of his skull. He put a sticky hand to his head, groaning in protest.

As he wallowed in his pain, he allowed memories from the previous night to wash over him. He recalled taking several shots at a club, finding an incredible Sex God on the dance-floor, taking him home...

Oh, God, he really hoped he wouldn't turn around and come face to face with the maroon-eyed sadist. He tensed up and rolled over, his hand flashing out to feel the sheets next to him. They were as cold as cold could be, and there was no sigh of relief he had been expecting. Instead, he just grunted, burrowing his face into his pillow and pulling his arm back into his warm body.

He was sure they had done several rounds over the course of the night until Marik had actually passed out. His whole body felt sore and drained and sticky; there were layers of sweat and cum. The air still had a musky overlay that probably would have been attractive last night, but it was just undesirable to wake up to. All he could smell was his and his ex-partner's funk.

Bakura.

Right, that was his name. He was honestly surprised he managed to get the name out of the stubborn man, and he made good use of it last night. He smirked, though it was minimal and private. When the night began, the man was adamant on not giving his name, but after Marik promptly fucked him, he revealed it. This was rather strange to Marik, but he hardly cared; he felt a bit of pride and cockiness that he had gotten Bakura to tell him his name.

Too bad it was a one night stand.

It was unlikely he would ever see 'Bakura' again, which was partially disappointing, mostly because Bakura had not only been a good lay, but he had been exciting and cunning. He met Marik's quips easily, replying quickly with his own sardonic comments. Yes, it was infuriating, but it was refreshing as well. It had felt so nice to freely banter without legitimate anger or fear behind every word. Not to mention, Bakura had a wonderful body. It was polar opposite to what he was used to; thick, bronze arms were instead stark and scrawny. His front lacked a sun-kissed six-pack, but was instead flat had had subtle almost womanly curves. It was delicious, insatiable; Marik couldn't have gotten enough the previous night.

...If they hadn't gone at it so many times last night, Marik was sure he would have gotten aroused at the mere memory of the attractive man. With an exasperated groan directed at himself, he pushed his face deeper into the pillows. He remained like this for several minutes, pointedly ignoring the hang-over headache.

The loud knocking came once more, and he angrily spit, ignoring the incessant noise until it finally ceased. He breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, his luck couldn't last, because he heard thumping, followed by the bedroom door being swung open. It was only then that he slowly raised his head to look at the intruder he certainly was in no position to fight off.

The small-framed man at the door put his hand on his hip, "Marik Ishtar, you're still in bed?"

Marik grumbled a reply, dropping his head back against the pillow when he concluded the 'intruder' was simply his best friend. The white haired man let out a sigh and strode over to the bed, fixing Marik with a chestnut glare.

"It's nearly noon, Marik." He chastised, poking at Marik's blanketed form with a slender, unfriendly finger.

Another groan came as a reply, "Keep your voice down."

"I was speaking very quietly, but I'll be sure to speak just above a whisper," he replied dryly, though he did lower his voice quite a bit.

Marik wished he was still dead to the world, but that possibility seemed to have disappear out the metaphorical window. Without looking at his friend, he grumbled into the pillow, "What the hell are you doing in here, Ryou?"

"Well, you weren't anywhere else in the house so I figured –"

"– No. I mean, why the hell are you in my flat?"

"Well... your front door was open."

Marik growled in confusion to himself before understanding. Of course Bakura wouldn't have had the courtesy to lock the front door before leaving. Of course that might be the worst of his problems. He should have stayed awake long enough to see the man out; that damned one-night-stand might have stolen something. Marik wouldn't put it past Bakura to be honest; it seemed within his personality to be a petty thief.

With that thought driving him, he pushed himself into a sitting position, the blanket pooling around his naked hips. Ryou reddened as his gaze raked over Marik's exposed lower body. "Uh – Marik?"

The man hissed, rubbing his poor head. "What?" He grated out.

"You're hung over aren't you?" Though it was a question, he already knew the answer. "Did you go to a bar and hook up with some random guy?"

"No," Marik grumbled, glancing away at Ryou's scrutinizing look, "I went to a club and hooked up with a random guy."

Ryou threw his hands up, "Marik! Same thing! And you know that isn't good. You don't know what kind of awful, creepy people are out there. Did you at least stay safe?"

Marik gave a dry chuckle and cocked his head to the scrapped condom that Bakura had shredded the previous night. He was well aware that Ryou didn't believe in one-night-stands nor hooking up with just any random bystander. He was always preaching about how unsafe it was, and how Marik shouldn't do it; not that he made a habit of it, anyways.

Ryou kicked the scraps of unused condom and crossed his arms, "Marik! That isn't good! That guy might have no been clean; you better get yourself tested!"

Marik waved his hand and scoffed, "The condom wouldn't have mattered anyway. I only had one and we were going at it all night."

Ryou reddened and his eyes widened, but he opened his mouth to reply when a hesitant voice came from the hallway, "Ryou? Did you find Marik?"

The pale man sighed, "Yes. He was in his bed oversleeping." He had raised his voice to share this information, so Marik hissed and rubbed his head, giving his friend a glower while doing so. Ryou just gave him a vaguely sympathetic look. "Put some clothes on. We'll wait on the couch." Without a response, he sped out of the room, his steps a little huffy.

Marik watched him go with a grumble before he pulled his sticky mostly-naked body from the covers. He pulled off his tank top and tossed it in the direction of the hamper before pulling on a gray one in its place. He tugged We on some baggy boxers as well before heading down the small hallway and exiting out into the combined kitchen-living room. Ryou, like he said, was sitting on the couch, along with their friend.

"Yugi came too?" Marik grumbled irritably, making a beeline to where he kept the medicine.

"Well, yes," Ryou blinked, "don't you remember we were going to go to brunch with the girls?"

"That explains why you keep glaring at me." Marik simply mumbled, grabbing two aspirin and grabbing a bottle of water. He joined them in the living room, plopping down on of the loveseats and downing most of the bottle, along with the tablets.

"We still went with Anzu and Miho, but they missed you." Yugi said from the opposite loveseat.

"I'm sure they did," Marik growled, rubbing his head irritably. I'm never drinking again, he lied to himself. "What would they do without their signature gay best friend, after all?" He added dryly.

He earned small glares from both of them. "You know that's not how they view you," Yugi claimed. "Anzu was pretty disappointed when you couldn't come."

"As was Miho," Ryou added.

Marik rolled his eyes and scoffed, deciding to ignore their words. "Whatever," he quickly drank the rest of his water. "So did you two just come here to bitch at me?"

Ryou gave a light laugh, "Well that and we were going to invite you to dinner."

"Yeah Marik, come with us." Yugi's smile was sweet. "We were going to the usual place."

He looked between the two of them,"...You're just inviting me because you feel sorry for me," Marik grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm over him."

"Marik..." Ryou began, shuffling his hands in his lap, "That's a lie and you know it."

The tanner man winced, but he still looked defiant. "I'm fucking over him. Shouldn't last night prove that?"

"Having sex with some random guy isn't moving on, Marik!"

Yugi blinked and reddened, offering Marik a surprised look, "Is that why you look so awful today, Marik?"

"I look awful because I was awakened before my time." Marik explained quickly, throwing a glare at Ryou. He still wasn't over being woken up so early (and by early he meant 11:53 AM).

Ryou gave his knee a friendly swat. "You can't just spend the whole day in bed. As much as you want to."

"I was up until God knows when; I deserve the sleep!"

Yugi, who was probably the most awkward among them when it came to anything sexual, shuffled his hands in his lap. "What did you do, exactly? Did you... get drunk?" He said the last words as if the thought of somebody becoming intoxicated was the most scandalous thing in the world.

Marik scoffed, but it was Ryou who answered with an eye roll, "Our friend here decided to get drunk and sleep with some random guy. Without protection, might I add."

"Like I said, it would have been useless anyways. I only had one and we did it AT LEAST –"

" – Marik, please!" Yugi looked as red as a pepper as he stared pleadingly at his tanned friend, "Please don't elaborate. I really don't need to be hearing the details of your sex life."

This made Marik snicker ever so slightly.

"Did you even get the guy's name?" Ryou asked now, tipping his head to Marik. "Or was it a one-time thing?"

"I got his name, but it was a one time thing. The only stuff I gathered about him is that he's an annoying, infuriating asshole. I swear if he wasn't good-looking I wouldn't have tolerated his God-awful personality."

Ryou gazed at him somewhat sympathetically. "Good-looking, huh? What does he look like?"

Before he answered, Marik had to admittedly smile at Ryou's question. He had always been a very supportive friend from the first time they met. Marik struggled with his sexuality for years – for obvious reasons. Homosexuality still wasn't accepted in modern society. Sure, there were places where you can be open, but certainly not anywhere Marik had lived. His homeland – Egypt – was extremely against any kind of homosexuality. It was this close-minded opinion that drove Marik to remain in the metaphorical closet for years and years. He denied himself happiness for so long, refusing to believe that there was even the smallest chance that he preferred men over women.

Even as a child, when he found himself compelled to hold hands with his male friend, he was deathly scared of such feelings. Holding hands didn't even have to mean anything, and yet he had been petrified. He told nobody of these feelings because he knew very well that they were wrong. He shuddered away from memories of childhood, and got his thoughts back on track, avoiding the dusty door within his mind that lead to darker memories.

Ryou, his friend since they were First Years at Domino High School, had always been very supportive, and even helped Marik figure out his sexuality. Perhaps not in the way Marik had wished and hoped for, but still, it was something. He would always tell Marik it was okay, that just because he preferred the same gender and sex as himself didn't mean anything negative. It didn't mean he was unnatural, or disgusting, or revolting. It simply meant he was Marik Ishtar.

It was this acceptance that caused him to accept himself. Now, after six years of being friends, he was very open about his sexuality. He didn't try and hide it, and if anyone gave him shit, then they got shit back.

"Well..." he began answering Ryou's question, but he quickly came to the conclusion that the mystery man had looked very much like his best friend. It was creepy now that he thought about it; they had many shocking similarities. The hair, for example, was the same arctic hue. They fell just past the shoulder blades on both males, though Ryou kept his neat and straight while Bakura had kept his crazy and unkempt – just like his personality. They had similar body structures, though Marik was sure Bakura was taller and wasn't as scrawny, but was likely pretty close. Their eye color was the same as well – though Bakura had hints of crimson in his chocolate depths, which made his irises gorgeous. Meanwhile, Ryou's eyes didn't look dangerous or mischievous, they were big and brown and adorable.

Ryou stared at him expectantly, and Marik pursed his lips. "Well, he's almost as tall as me. Kind of scrawny... kind of pale... er..." he paused, scratching his arm, "...Long white hair."

The paler man opposite him looked surprised, "Wow! You don't see long white hair very often." He laughed and stroked his locks, and Marik breathed a sigh of relief at his friend's obliviousness.

"Shoot! Ryou, we should get going. You have a shift in a few, and I said I'd meet Anzu for her lunch break."

Ryou checked his phone and his eyes widened, "Dang it! I'm going to be late!" He jumped off the loveseat, "We'll get out of your hair Marik – and don't go back to sleep. You've slept enough." He laughed and headed for the door along with Yugi.

Marik walked with them and saw them out.

"Don't forget, Marik! Meet as at the Golden Puzzle tonight at eight!" Yugi threw over his shoulder as they headed down the hallway, leaving a tired, hungover Marik standing in the doorway.

o o o

During the day there was very little to do in this world. Bakura often found himself rather lost with himself when the sun was up. During those hours in which the sun ruled, humans somehow managed to become even more boring what with their jobs and schools and shopping. Nobody did anything interesting during the day, which meant his playtime was put to a halt the second the sun rose.

He was presently pacing in an abandoned building he had made his temporary living space. It was full of spiders and darkness – just how he liked it. He didn't do much here other than rest and brood, but he couldn't rest – he was simply too full of energy. It was pumping through his body, motivating him to do more than to just sit and think and wait for nightfall. He was tempted to actually take a walk around town and explore human culture.

...If he already hadn't done that at least ten thousand times in his long lifetime.

With an exasperated sigh, he fell back into an old and tattered bed, not caring about how the metal frame whined despite his light weight. For the hundredth time, his mind backtracked to the night prior, and his body tingled with excitement. The man he had found – "Marik" – had truly satisfied him in ways that was unbeknownst to him. There was so much power and exhilaration coursing through him just from a single night of fast-paced, sloppy sex.

When we touch,

I can feel we've got a chemistry

It left him feeling satisfied and excited. His limbs still quivered just thinking about the way Marik moved, the way the sweat glistened off of beautiful sun-kissed skin, the way his unusual lilac eyes lidded when he was aroused... it all made up an extremely delicious and attractive man, and Bakura truly wished for more.

Can't get enough,

Watch ya when you stand so close to me

It was rare for him to be so exhilarated by sleeping with somebody. There were times when he felt exhausted by the act, then there were rare times when he could actually feel the power fueled by the experience to course through him, filling him with energy and life.

This couldn't be wasted, he decided.

He would return to Marik once more. He made exceptions to the rule about 'never returning for more'' – and Marik truly was one of those exceptions.

I've got you

Under my skin

...

Marik arrived at 8:22 PM. He skidded into the parking lot on his Harley, put down the kick stand and strode into the restaurant. He was in a somewhat better mood; his headache was gone and, despite Ryou's warning, he had napped in the early afternoon, followed by a very long shower to cleanse his body-fluid covered skin. He had dressed himself simply: a sleeveless leather jacket, a purple sleeveless v-neck underneath and a pair of tight black jeans that hugged his ass very nicely. Of course, he always enjoyed accessorizing. He always wore earrings, bracelets, cuffs, rings and necklaces. The gold made him look exotic and appealing.

Even if he was satisfied and he wasn't looking for any kind of partner tonight, he still made himself look good. He was guided to the table where his friends were by a waiter, and sat down at the end of the booth with a quiet 'thanks' to his guide. He was thankful that his friends didn't bring 'The Girls', but a couple of friends within their circle had come as well: Jounouchi and Honda.

While they were in their friend circle from High School, Marik was never... particularly fond of them. And the feeling was mutual. Sure, they treated each other civilly, and sometimes joked, but overall the tension between him and the pair was thick enough to cut with a knife. The rest of their friends were very aware of this and usually did their best to remain unbiased, but if push came to shove, everybody normally sided with Honda and Jounouchi except for Ryou, who always backed Marik up.

Marik recalled their immature High School days where fights had broken out. It was always for stupid things – Marik, however, recalled beating Jounouchi's face in for bitching one too many times about 'faggots'. It had been a bad start for Marik that morning, and he had still been struggling with his sexuality. Jounouchi wasn't aware of this and continued his homophobic comments day after day until Marik could hardly handle it.

Jounouchi and Honda fixed up their attitude regarding homosexuality after that, but Marik could tell the prospect made them a little uncomfortable. Or at least it did with Jounouchi – Honda was far more accepting about the whole thing, he just wasn't entirety sure how to view it. It confused him greatly – which pissed Marik off. How hard was it to understand that a guy could like a guy and a girl could like a girl?

"'Ey Ishtar," Jounouchi greeted with a casual wave as the tanner man sat down, though his facial expression didn't change.

Marik nodded, "Hey. Ryou and Yugi didn't mention you two would be here," He commented passively as he accepted an extra menu from the waiter.

"Sorry! I forgot to mention. I hope you don't mind," Yugi apologized before either one of the pair could reply with any sort of quip.

"I guess not," Marik replied flippantly as he pretended to read the menu. He had been here enough times to know what was decent; he normally went with fried noodles or a salad.

The other guys seemingly went back to whatever they had been talking about before Marik arrived, so he sat back and listened with half an ear. Yugi was talking about some gossip Anzu shared with him, so aloof Marik wasn't particularly interested.

When the waitress arrived to take their orders, Marik rolled his eyes to find Honda attempting to flirt with her. She simply giggled and waved him off before taking their orders.

Ryou asked for iced tea and tonkatsu. Yugi got a coke and korokke. Honda went with a western-style steak and beer while Jounouchi went with a hambagu and beer. Marik curled his nose at their choices – western style food was always so plain and unappetizing.

"And you sir?" She giggled as she turned to Marik, ogling him a little (much to Honda's blatant jealously).

Marik smirked slightly, "I'll take the hiyayakko and a Cherry Blossom Margarita."

"Okay! I'll need to see your all your I.D.s when you pay!" She jotted his order down and bounced away.

Ryou rolled his eyes, "Didn't you get your fake I.D. taken away, Marik?"

He smirked and fished out his wallet, "I got a new one. Check it out." He handed the card to Ryou. It had all his exact information except for his name and age. Everyone leaned in curiously to look.

Namu Blishtar.

Jounouchi snickered, "Blishtar? Who the hell would that fool?"

Marik scoffed and took back the I.D. "A lot of people. It fooled the bartender last night, and it'll fool our bimbo of a waitress."

"That's not nice! She's pretty!" Honda claimed, but Jounouchi was looking at Marik with interest.

"Last night? Didja go bar-hopping?"

Ryou rolled his eyes as a smug look came across Marik's features, "Marik, don't..." he started to warn, but obviously the tanner man paid no mind.

"I went to the club last night and fucked a hot guy. Several times." Marik wiggled his brows, the smirk on his face going wider as both his friends paled.

"...I could have gone my whole life without hearing that." Honda finally admitted, not meeting Marik's eye.

Jounouchi didn't respond, but rather welcomed the waitress returning with his beer. He took several deep gulps while Marik continued to snigger darkly.

Yugi looked to his tan friend, "Are you going to tell that to everybody?"

"Anybody that asks." Marik shrugged, sitting back and crossing his arms smugly. "Jounouchi asked, so I told."

"Hey man, I just asked if you went to some bars, I didn't ask to know about your... activities." The blond finished lamely.

"Well then I was kind enough to elaborate."

He groaned in response and drank more of his beer. Yugi looked to Ryou pleadingly, so he swiftly tried to change the subject.

"So Jou, how's Mai?" Ryou floundered desperately.

Jounouchi's mood shifted, "She's good. She's still playing hard to get, though. It's driving me up the damn wall. I mean we've been officially dating for a while now but she still acts like we aren't."

"Maybe she just doesn't want you, Jou. Have you ever considered that?" Honda joked at the blond's expense.

"Oh, she does! I know she does! Nobody can resist Jounouchi the Lady Charmer!" Jounouchi scoffed confidently, scowling while everybody else at the table openly laughed. Even Ryou was giggling – though he held a hand in front of his mouth in a polite manner.

Marik snickered, though he found the laughs trailing away as he watched Ryou for a moment. He observed the way his pale cheeks were slightly tinted pink, and how his eyes were scrunched shut as he giggled at Jounouchi's ridiculous claim. Marik felt his heart jump and he wrenched his gaze away before anybody could notice he had been staring.

"Oh, you all can shut it!" The blond growled, crossing his arms in a pout-like gesture. This only fueled the table's laughter.

"Sorry man, It's just funny! You're the farthest thing from a 'Lady Charmer' as one can get." Honda sniggered.

"You're one to laugh, Honda!" Jounouchi swatted him lightly on the shoulder, "You're the only one at this table who is single!"

He halted in his words, cutting off almost awkwardly. "Except – uh – Marik."

At the implication of his... recent relationship troubles, he nervously picked at a nail under the table. "It's fine." He grumbled as four pairs of worried eyes turned to him. Apparently news of his break-up had gotten around the friend circle – no doubt to Yugi's gossiping mouth.

Everyone was quiet for a few minutes. When conversation started again, Marik didn't bother with paying attention. He simply sat uncomfortably, drinking his drink until his glass was empty. Suddenly, his mood had taken a turn for the worse, and the desire to get drunk and dance like last night was overwhelming. He waved down a waitress and asked for another Cherry Blossom Margarita. Ryou noticed this, because he scooted closer until their legs were pressing together. It made Marik's heart jump uncomfortably again, but he didn't respond.

"Marik? Are you okay?" Ryou asked in a lowered tone.

"I'm fine." He grumbled as he accepted his drink. He took a large gulp of his drink, wishing it was something stronger as the strawberry flavor slid down his gullet.

"I don't believe that."

"Then I guess that's your problem."

Ryou's frown turned to a scowl. "Don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"Like a dick!"

Marik shrugged, still not meeting his friend's eye. Ryou look exasperated.

"You've been very unpleasant lately, and I know it's because you're not over him, but –"

Marik slammed his fists down on the table, his lilac eyes smoldering. He didn't realize how much irritation had been building up until Ryou managed to piss him off.

"Quite mentioning him!" He snarled in Ryou's face, "Just fucking stop! I told you I'm over it. I'm over him. It's over and done with. I'm never seeing that fucking asshole ever again and I'd fucking appreciate it if stopped bringing him up! I'm done talking about it!" He threw himself into a standing position, gave his friend one last glare and stormed off in the direction of the restroom.

…

It was still early when he returned home. It had just turned 10, and he had a desire to get drunk and watch violent movies.

He never quite recovered from Ryou's probing. When he returned from the restroom, nobody really looked at him or spoke to him. He just quietly ate his food, had another drink (which helped him feel buzzed but not particularly drunk), paid his bill and left early. Nobody argued with this, but Ryou gave him an honest farewell. There was no doubt Ryou would bother him later, but for now, he was thankfully left alone.

He dug through his cupboards, finding a bottle of Bacardi. He took a gulp of the thick liquid, not bothering with a shot glass, before he trailed into the front room and put on some late night television. He ended up taking a few more gulps, becoming dizzy before sleep tugged at his eyelids. He clicked the T.V. off around 11:30 and tumbled towards his bedroom. He stripped down to his tank-top and boxers before he plopped into his sheets, barely managing to burrow himself into the duvet. His last fleeting thoughts were of white hair and maroon eyes.

o o o

You set me me off,

I can't wait to feel your hands on me

Bakura stood in a very familiar bedroom, a sardonic smirk gracing his lips.

Getting into the Egyptian's room had been incredibly easy. He had left his window unlocked, so Bakura didn't even have to technically 'break in' (never mind the fact that people who live 70 feet off the ground shouldn't have to lock their windows in the first place). A languid tongue drew over his lips as he prowled towards the bed, his shirt already off, boldly crawling onto the silky purple duvet. His movements were slow and graceful, doing nothing to expose him to the sleeping man, even when he crouched over his blanketed form.

"Marik." He murmured, his voice husky.

The man beneath him shifted in his sleep, but did not wake. Bakura grinned wider, his fangs peeking out from rosy lips. He hooked his long fingers around the blanket and pulled it off of his prize, exposing him to the coolness of his bedroom. He shivered a little and a hand absently groped for the lost blanket that Bakura had discarded to the floor.

"Marik."

The owner of the name grumbled tiredly, paying no mind to the man crouching over him. Bakura sneered, drawing his long nails through strands of light blond hair. The gesture was almost fond, but given Bakura's position and facial expression, affection was the last thing on his mind.

He began touching the tan man's body. His slender fingers moved from strands of soft locks to his slender neck, down his adam's apple and to his collar bone. The skin twitched under his touch, but Marik's breathing did not change. Bakura found that the tanktop became annoying very quickly, so he grabbed the hem and wedged it up as far as he could, exposing the delicious front he had been unable to see the night prior.

Bakura truly wasn't disappointed. While Marik wasn't overly muscular, he had the hints of a six-pack. His hip bones were prominent, and the curves they added just succeeded in making him look all the more attractive. He had pectoral muscles to match that, the muscles hard beneath his chest. The muscles in his arms were far more subtle, but as Bakura stroked them, he could feel the muscles beneath.

The tip of his nail left a slight mark as he drew it down the front of Marik's chest, the bronze skin quivering in the finger's wake. Then, he replaced the tip of his nail with his whole palm. He grazed his entire hand across Marik's toned chest, enjoying the way the muscles twitched under his rather delicate touch.

He dipped one of his fingers into Marik's belly button, letting out a snicker as his stomach trembled. Licking his lips, he balanced on his knees – which were placed on each side of Marik's hips – and began dragging both his skilled fingers up and down his quivering front. His pectoral muscles shook a little and his abdomen rippled uncontrollably at the sensual sensations.

Finally, Marik moaned in his sleep. Bakura smirked, leaning close to Marik's face that was beginning to flush.

"Marik." He breathed.

Marik exhaled deeply in response, his eyelids fluttering, but his consciousness did not surface. Bakura wasn't discouraged, however. He simply let the smirk remain on his face as he began licking at Marik's front, tasting his delicious skin. He was careful to leave no marks, just long trails of saliva. He was oh-so-tempted to bite, but that wasn't what he was here to do. He put a nipple in his mouth, trailing a skilled tongue over the nub, feeling Marik's body shake beneath his lips.

In a bold move, he slid his hands down and groped Marik's bulge through his boxers, smirking widely to find it had started to harden thanks to Bakura's ministrations. He shivered deliciously and slid the pair of underwear away from bronze hips, quickly discarding them to the side. The pale man flashed a fanged grin and put his hand around the swelling length, helping it along with quick jerks of his skilled wrist.

Marik was panting now, and his sleeping limbs were beginning to twitch and writhe. The image was truly delectable to Bakura, who couldn't help but lick his lips.

Bakura jerked the sleeping man's cock until it was to full height – an impressive height, he might add. He smirked, pulling back and pulling his pants and boxers off, exposing his own growing erection. He spat on his hand a few times, lathering his partner's manhood in layers of saliva until it was slick. He would have just put his mouth on it, but time was of the essence. He didn't have time to play this out – despite as much as he wanted to.

In all honestly, he shouldn't even be here (never mind the fact he technically broke in); he never went back for seconds. It was against his policy. And yet, here he was, probing his own ass as he attempted some amount of preparation. In a swift movement, he adjusted himself so Marik's swollen head pressed against his eagerly awaiting entrance. He quivered at the pleasing heat that threatened to push through the threshold.

And when we rock

Feels just like the devil's ridin' me

With a deep inhale, he began lowering himself down onto Marik's erection, squeezing his eyes shut as a burning sensation promptly followed. Spit was a vulgar and ineffective form of lubrication, and his preparation had been minimal at best. He was lucky he had a high tolerance of pain, or this whole thing would have been borderline unbearable.

Once the erection had been completely sheathed, he finally let out the breath he had been holding in. He could feel Marik's cock deep inside of him, and it was absolutely insatiable. The heat of Marik's length made him shiver and wish there was more of him. With a moan, he moved his his upwards, feeling the hot cock slide out of him. He desperately tried to remain relaxed as he bit at his lips with his fangs.

In a fluid movement, he threw his hips down, letting out an unrestrained cry the cock entered all the way to the hilt. He gazed down at his partner with lidded eyes, realizing that he could see a slit of lavender. Marik's eyes were narrowed and blurred with sleep and pleasure. He was returning Bakura's stare with a dazed expression.

Bakura smirked as he leaned his body forward, continuing to move his hips very slowly.

"Marik."

"...mmm...ba..kura..." Marik moaned in a slurred voice.

Bakura smirked, rolling his hips. The flesh of his ass slapped against Marik's upper legs with the movement. He felt a pair of hands on his hips, through the grasp was weak. Bakura ignored this and just sped his movements until the room was full of the sound of the bed creaking and their sweaty flesh slapping together. Marik's moans were far more unrestrained than the previous night while Bakura's was just as unrestrained as the previous night. He didn't disguise his pleasure as he moaned to the high heavens, his mouth wide open.

His movements became quick and desperate. He grabbed himself with a sweaty palm and began jerking himself off in rhythm with his own hip-rolls. He aimed downwards at an angle that would cause Marik's swollen length to rut up against his prostate, and it was causing him to lose control. His jerks became frantic, his toes curled, his chin tipped back. A pool of desperation built at the base of his bouncing cock.

Finally, with a rough jerk and powerful roll, he came violently onto Marik's stomach. He rode out his orgasm, barely recognizing the heat that shot into him as Marik came seconds later, filling Bakura's insides with hot semen. He involuntarily clenched as he pulled away from his partner.

Marik was panting heavily, sweat covering his exposed chest. He still looked tired and lost, and Bakura couldn't help but snort at the expression he was receiving. He dipped his head, keeping his eyes level with Marik's as he began licking his own semen off of Marik's stomach. His own musky taste wasn't as appealing as somebody else's, but it was worth it to see the expression on Marik's sleepy face.

Once he was lapped clean, he tugged the tank-top back in its place and tugged his boxers back up to his hips. He slid off the bed and threw the duvet back over it.

Marik was grumbling something, but seemingly had fallen back to sleep. Bakura watched him for a moment then grinned devilishly, approaching the side of the bed and leaning over his face.

"We wouldn't want you to be too content," Bakura cooed lightly as he stroked Marik's forehead with his index finger. After a few moments, of the seemingly affectionate gesture. Marik's peaceful expression darkened.

Bakura pulled away, threw his clothes on and sauntered out the way he came. "Enjoy the nightmares... it's the last thing you're getting from me." He murmured sardonically before he left, leaving a whimpering and writhing Marik.

I've got you

Under my skin...[1]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Under My Skin by Sarah Connor


	3. You're My Favorite Drug

A couple weeks had passed since Marik had awoken from a very unpleasant, nightmare-filled slumber. Despite it being so long ago, it still haunted the back of his mind; a constant, darkened presence.

Nightmares weren't unknown to him. He always had been plagued by darker thoughts, and so nightmares just came along with that. He had learned to deal with them long ago, and eventually they went away. However, this particular nightmare effected him far more than any other he had ever had. He recalled it starting off rather peculiar; he dreamed he had woken up to Bakura touching him. His slender fingers had been all over his body, touching his chest, abdomen and... lower areas. And then the man had rode him until orgasm. Marik was a young adult and didn't have many sex dreams (or at least not as many as he had as a teenager) and that in itself was strange.

After they had finished their act, he recalled slipping out of existence. His bedroom had been replaced with writhing, violet shadows. His bed had vanished, and he had been hoisted into the air by tentacles that had came whipping out from the curling, grotesque shadows that replaced his bedroom walls and furniture. His screams were muted, not that anybody would help; nobody ever came to help. It had gone on like this for a very long time. The shadows were always there, showing images and memories that played through his head, taunting him to tears.

Weeks later, he shuddered at the memory of his father's face reacquiring repeatedly in the nightmare. His cruel, old, twisted face, every wrinkle causing his complexion to appear even more terrifying. Images of the cruel boys in Egypt pinning him down and shouting moxannes and xawal, laughing when their spit spattering across his sun-kissed cheeks. It was as if the nightmare forced him to relive all of his life's worst moments, and when he finally had woken up from his terror, he felt cold.

That was the best word to describe it.

Cold.

"Ishtar? Ishtar!"

His mind finally resurfaced, and he found himself staring at a greasy truck engine. With a grunt, he pushed himself out from under the car, coughing at the dirt that coated his cheeks.

"You've been under there doing nothing for the last twenty minutes. We need to fix the transmission before noon."

He sat up, accepting the rag his co-worker was offering him. "I'm well aware, Miles. My mind was elsewhere." That had been happening often, it seemed. It had always been a thinker, and this resulted in him mulling over things for sometimes hours without realizing time going by.

Miles offered him a grin. His co-worker was a a laid-back ginger-haired boy. Despite his young age; seventeen; he was as skilled with a wrench as any veteran mechanic. He stared down at him with good humor twinkling in his blue eyes. "You've been doing that a lot more recently. Come on Marik, get your head in the game!"

His co-worker, being born and raised in America, was a bit looser on Japanese customs, so he often switched between first and last names and forgot honorifics unless dealing with customers. Meanwhile, back many years ago, rebellious teenager Marik refused Japanese customs all together. He ignored honorifics and didn't bother with politeness whatsoever. He called everybody by their first names, even his teachers, resulting in punishments and detention.

"Marik! You're spacing out again!" Miles waved a gloved hand in front of his face, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"Shit. Sorry."

He grinned. "It's fine. Anyways, if you hurry and finish with that Ram's transmission, we can eat lunch."

His stomach growled at the thought of food and he agreed with a nod. He turned away, grabbed his tools and slid under the car again. Marik worked as a mechanic. The job was pretty simple for a bright man like him, but it was dirty and he dealt with a lot of people that made him want to blow their brains out. Still, he enjoyed what he did, especially when he got to work on motorcycles; they were his specialty and his passion.

There were a lot of motorcyclists in the area unfortunately, so when anybody brought one in, he'd spend quite a few minutes just appreciating it. He continued working until his task was done. He grabbed a rag and began blotting his arms and cheeks. He didn't mind how filthy the job was, because the scent of oil and rusty and metal was strangely calming. It reminded him of the days where he'd sit in the garage and work on his motorcycle to cool off after a stressful day at school.

"Alright Miles, I'm done here," he shouted in some direction. He wasn't sure where his co-worker went off to, since the garage was large (at least large enough to hold seven cars at a time).

"Cool, because the owner just arrived," was the answer. He continued wiping his hands as he approached the owner of the truck he had just fixed. He appeared to be a foreigner, so his ownership of an obscure truck suddenly made sense.

He gave Marik a scrutinizing glare as he asked in a rough, accented voice, "Fix my transmission?"

Marik felt his attitude flare at the tone he was being spoken to with. "That's what you paid us to do," he returned evenly, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly.

The man scoffed and Miles sighed, quickly guiding the man into the office. Marik was left in a foul mood. He should have grown used to it really, the way so many clients scoffed condescendingly. Whether it was because he looked foreign, flamboyant or both.

His pace erratic, he stormed off to the small locker room in the back of the shop. After cleaning his grimy face and arms the best he could, he checked his phone and felt the blood in his very veins freeze. There was a missed call from a blocked number, and he knew instantly who it was from. He grit his teeth and deleted the notification from his phone with shaking fingers. He then shoved the phone back into his locker, slammed the door for good measure and sunk into a chair.

I thought I heard the last of him, Marik thought desperately, his eyes squeezed shut in despair. I made it clear I didn't want anything to do with him anymore. But he shouldn't have been surprised, his ex-boyfriend had always been very stubborn, probably more-so than he. He shook his head as he held it between his palms. It had been weeks since he last saw his ex, so he assumed that any chance of communication was proved void.

Evidently, he was wrong.

"Marik? You okay?"

He raised his head to see his co-worker gazing at him worriedly.

"I'm fine," Marik lied, hoisting himself up. "Sorry Miles, I need to go for a walk and clear my head."

He frowned, but nodded. Marik pulled on his leather coat and left the shop. The air was biting, so he buried his hands in his pockets and swiftly walked down the street. He had no particular destination, he just walked. He walked until he was cold; his nose and ears numbed, but he managed to keep his body warm by keeping up a constant pace.

Blond brows were furrowed as he drifted through downtown Domino deep in thought. He was irritated and worried, and occasionally he found himself glancing around in a nervous manner, as if he were being watched. He knew he wasn't, it was just the biting anxiety that he so often felt. Misery was quite commonplace for him though. The foreboding feeling that welled up from his stomach and caused his limbs to quake and heart to race was just all part of the package.

He normally dealt with it in one of three ways: diving into his work, diving into a glass of alcohol, or going for a very long drive. Sometimes he'd drive all day, only stopping to top off his motorcycle. He would push through the city before heading out into the stretches of forest. Once he had drove to the opposite coast of Japan; stopping only for coffee when he felt himself grow tired. It had been right after his interview for the current shop he worked at; he had been sure he failed the interview. Obviously, he hadn't; on his way back, he had gotten invited for a second interview. All the anxiety had been for not.

He licked his lips, his view shifting to a blond haired man that passed him. The worried assumption that this man was a threat was ridiculous; it was simply some man talking loudly on his phone, presumably to his girlfriend by the shrill tone that left the device. The light blond head of semi-long hair had thrown him off, and he felt foolish for his cold sweats. Of course his ex wouldn't appear before him in public... or at least not on the open street. They both knew Marik would purposely make a scene with his haughty attitude and loud, biting voice. And they both knew Marik wouldn't risk a private encounter. He bit the inside of his mouth.

Feeling his stomach coil once more, he decided to check the time. His break had been over for three minutes. Cursing, he doubled back and hoped his supervisor wouldn't notice his late return. Miles will cover for me if not he reasoned. He hoped returning to work would help calm his racing heart and upset stomach; it normally did. The smell of oil and metal was strangely comforting, and keeping his hands and mind busy would be a good distraction.

o o o

I'm your favorite drug

Your favorite drug

Two weeks. Two weeks he had gone without bedding another man, and those two weeks had been the worst of his very long life.

It started with him feeling strangely giddy and full of energy. He went through the days with a slight bounce in his step and a constant smirk. Sure, he always smirked, but the smirk that graced his lips had been borderline jubilant. However, as the days passed, so did this uncharacteristic good mood. Eventually, his energy began to diminish, and a familiar itch had returned. And so, three nights after leaving Marik's window, he had gone out on the town.

Weekdays were always slower than weekends. Humans didn't want to have fun and get drunk on these days because they had mortal obligations. They had jobs, school, families... it made him sick. It took extra effort to bed a man during these days, since most of them were out at bars with their friends, enjoying a dinner and a couple beers. That is, if they even went out.

If Bakura was desperate, he would simply slip into the room of an attractive man, but that took the fun out of the game. He enjoyed the hunt, the thrill of a man gazing after him feverishly. It was absolutely enthralling. However, as the days slipped by, Bakura couldn't help but notice either his charm was dissipating, or his interest was. As he scoured the bars, he couldn't seem to find anybody worth engaging in. All the men looked plain and dull, all with the same hair and same eyes and same boring smile. And the closer Bakura looked, the more drab they became. They all blended together into a monochromatic glob of absolute dreariness, and he didn't want anything to do with them.

After a week was when Bakura got restless and desperate. It made him feel ridiculously weak, how desperate he was for a lay. He had gone out to the clubs again, and looked endlessly for an exotic face, but no man was appealing. None of them.

Bakura could have screamed out loud in frustration.

And so, after two weeks, he felt twitchy and itchy and absolutely annoyed. Another sexless week proved to be hard on both his body and his psyche. It was Friday night, and has he stared into the chipped mirror, he smirked at his own reflection.

"I'd do me," he praised cockily before he headed out to the clubs.

It was like he was on home turf. He knew this club better than he knew Hell itself. With a silky grin, he passed through the crowds. When he sensed eyes on him, he felt waves of satisfaction. His smirk growing wider, he let his hips gyrate to the music.

Minutes turned to hours, and Bakura had lost all patience. He had danced with several men that night, but none of them had been interesting enough to pursue. Whether it was their boring black or brown hair, their drab, lifeless eyes or the smirks that graced their lips that seemed to be more of a frown. It was all boring and unattractive and Bakura wanted nothing to do with them.

However, his eyes finally landed on somebody that could almost be entertaining enough. A tall man, perhaps a few inches taller than him, and he sported freakishly long hair of a tea green hue. He sauntered over, engaging the somewhat interesting man in a dance.

Less than ten minutes later, Bakura had him pinned by the hips against an alley wall. His teeth were roughly digging into his naval as his fingers fiddled with his tight pants. The man above him was quiet, only letting a few groans pass his lips as Bakura pulled out his developing hard-on. Not even looking at the man above him, he took the length into his mouth. It tasted disgusting in his mouth; not even musky or salty, just drab and spongy. He kept himself from curling his nose in disgust as he drew his tongue up the veined shaft, letting his saliva coat the hot, fleshy surface.

As he took the appendage down his throat, his mind drifted to a certain Egyptian. He exhaled softly as he imagined the erection pressing against his tongue was sun-kissed, and the soft groans above him were deep and husky, not meek and feminine. It was only when his imagination ran rampant that his pants begin to tighten.

His throat quivered as he pulled the erection from his mouth, keeping his tongue only on the head. For the first time, he looked up at the man, his crimson-laced eyes meeting dull blue, and at once he felt his stomach coil. He pulled away, disgusted, letting saliva and pre-cum to drip to the ground near his knees. Bakura suddenly stood, wiped his hand on his pants, swiftly turned on his heel and strode out of the dank alleyway, leaving the confused man that still leaned against the wall.

Just one hit is never enough

I'm your favorite drug

Your favorite drug

o o o

Despite his dirty form, he decided not to shower right away. As he entered his flat, he simply threw his leather jacket onto the entry table, along with his keys and his wallet. With a groan, he kicked off his boots and went into the kitchen, pulling a beer from the fridge. He despised the stuff but his panic and discomfort still lingered from earlier that day, and he was desperate for a buzz. He plopped onto the couch, cracking the bottle open and chugging several gulps of the disgusting liquid.

Marik turned on the T.V. and scrolled mindlessly through channels, halting on an animation station. He really wasn't a fan of T.V. so he wasn't particularly picky. He tossed the remote down and took another drink of his bitter beverage. He absently surveyed his fingernails, finding most of the paint had been chipped off. This was unsurprising, especially in his job. As he gazed at the remaining black polish, his mind began to wander. It wandered to earlier that day, to the missed calls. He hadn't received any more since then, but that did little to quell his nerves.

Perhaps it had been a mistake?

He laughed dryly at his own presumption. There was absolutely no way he would have dialed Marik's number by mistake; the call had been very deliberate. This brought Marik a combination of disgust, confusion and fear. He absolutely hated the feeling of fear bubbling in his gut. He was a proud, strong individual and he took pride in that; he took pride in the fact he had taken all of life's bullshit and threw it back ten-fold.

To be terrified, to be vulnerable, needless to say, wasn't something he enjoyed. Marik had felt enough fear in his life. He grumbled irritably and took another swig of his alcohol just as a knock filled the room. He glared in the direction of the door; who dare interrupt his evening of drunken angst?

Marik put his beer down and stormed to his door, unlocking it and swinging it open with enough velocity to knock a man out if he had been standing in the right spot. He opened his mouth to give a grouchy greeting but he halted upon seeing who was at the door.

"Bakura?"

o o o

"The one and only. The only one you know anyway." He replied haughtily, moving to invite himself in, only to be barred by the man's body.

Marik looked absolutely pissed, which amused Bakura endlessly. He took a small step back as the tanner man leaned against the door frame, surveying him with an annoyed gaze. The man looked as if he just returned from sort of laborious duty; from head to toe he was covered in splotches of grime that stunk of gas and diesel. He wore a black tank top, and his muscled arms glistened with sticky sweat. Bakura raised a brow to his condition.

"...I was just at work. I stayed late." Marik explained flatly, guessing Bakura's thoughts by his scrutinizing gaze. "Why are you here?"

"No reason," Bakura replied innocently, causing the other man's scowl to deepen.

"Then I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I shut the door in your face?" Marik offered, stepping back and preparing to do just that.

Bakura stopped it with a surprisingly strong arm. "That's no way to treat a guest," he tutted. "Let me in."

Marik looked at him like he was an idiot. His lavender eyes were narrowed, and his knuckles went white as he harshly gripped the wooden door. "I don't think so."

"Come on, we're friends aren't we?" He chanced, his tone dangerous, his eyes glittering.

"We slept together once."

"Several times, if I recall."

"We fucked for one night."

"And I think we bonded quite well."

Marik looked even more pissed, "Just piss off."

"Don't feel like it."

Marik threw his hands up in a dramatic manner. Bakura used this opportunity to begin moving into the other man's abode. This time, Marik let him, though dangerous eyes followed him. When Bakura was inside, he slammed the door shut and swarmed into the kitchen. He dug around in the fridge, pulling out another bottle of cheap beer.

"Aren't you going to offer me anything?" Bakura taunted, following Marik into the conjoined living area.

"Nope."

"You're not a good host."

"Nope."

Marik sat, glaring at Bakura as he followed suit. He looked absolutely awful, though not in an unattractive way he thought. He surveyed his host, noticing the bags that had developed under his eyes. Bakura felt a spot of pride and smirked internally, knowing it was likely due to a lack of sleep, thanks to his handiwork a couple weeks ago.

"What do you want?"

"I already told you. Nothing."

Marik looked suspicious as he took a drink. "I'm not in the mood for sex tonight, so if that's why you came, you can just leave."

"You wound me; why would I come here simply for sex?"

Marik's face grew livid, "Because that's the only reason we even slightly know each other! We had a one-night stand; you didn't even stay to sleep, you just left after I passed out. I haven't seen you for what? How long? Two weeks? Three? There's no other reason for you to be here."

Bakura scoffed. He was amused by his acquaintance's annoyance, it made his visit all the more interesting. In truth, he had a reason for being here, but he decided to fuck around with his host. He smirked a bit, "I have no alternative motives for being here."

"...You're fucking annoying," Marik resolved before taking another swig from his bottle and setting it on the coffee table.

Bakura leered at him before his gaze raked down the man's grimy body, "What's your work?"

"Mechanic. Why do you care?"

"Mechanics are hot," Bakura winked.

Marik's eyes blazed, and he opened his mouth but Bakura interrupted him, "Why a mechanic?"

He looked put off, as if he weren't expecting the question. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously before replying very slowly, "I'm good at fixing vehicles... I specialize in motorcycles."

"Do you have a motorcycle?"

Marik still looked uneasy, but he replied again, "Yes."

"You just keep growing hotter, Ishtar. An exotic stud like you on a motorcycle? Damn, I'm fanning myself over here."

He sputtered, "What the fuck – wait, how the hell do you know my last name?"

Bakura snickered and gestured to the stack of letters that lay haphazardly on the coffee table. "If you don't want people knowing your personal information, you shouldn't leave it sitting out."

"I shouldn't have to hide my information in my own home! Just tell me why the fuck you're here and leave. I've dealt with enough bullshit today."

"Hmm? What kind of bullshit?" Bakura asked slyly, leaning his side against the back of the couch and facing Marik, a position of complete comfort.

"None of your business."

"You can tell me."

Marik simply sneered back at him, "I have every ability to, but I refuse to."

Bakura smiled dangerously, causing Marik to visibly shift in discomfort.

"... I don't want to talk about it." Marik said finally, "It's better if I don't."

The paler man gazed at his host, his brow raised. He managed to catch a glimpse of the vulnerability the other man held. It was well camouflaged under layers of confidence and self-assurance. This was simply a cloak, and Bakura saw it. Though, strangely, he didn't feel the need to exploit it. Instead, he moved like water and leaned forward, his head coming to rest on Marik's lap. He looked up at the man coyly, who returned a startled gaze.

"What the hell are you doing now?" Marik grumbled, fidgeting in an attempt to dislodge Bakura.

"You're stressed," Bakura simply observed, beginning to fiddle with Marik's belt and zipper. He let seduction come over his gaze as he stared up at his host, his tongue drawing slowly over his lips. "I can fix it."

"I told you I'm not in the fucking mood – fuck –" he cut himself off as Bakura rutted a palm against the front of his pants. He swiftly changed positions, moving from the couch to his knees. He knelt shamelessly on the floor, his nimble fingers quickly undoing Marik's pants.

"Bakura," he grumbled weakly, making half-assed attempts to push pale hands away. Bakura was having none of that, though; he was already pulling out his tanned, flaccid cock. It was warm under his palm as he gave it a few pumps before taking it into his mouth.

The man above him hissed and all complaints ceased as Bakura's wet mouth made quick work of getting it hard. With a skilled tongue, he feverishly explored the veined surface, greedily taking in the various textures. Unlike the drab need of the mysterious green-haired man from the club, he felt himself becoming excited just having Marik's in his mouth.

It became hard under his skilled ministrations, he then took it into his throat with a few careful bobs of his head. Marik let out a noise that resembled a croak and Bakura internally smirked; he could take the man's large length down his gullet quite easily. He pulled in his cheeks and sucked on the appendage, coating it with sticky saliva that made bobbing his head all the easier.

As he slurped, Marik groaned. Tan digits found snowy locks and began pulling roughly. Bakura didn't mind; needless to say, pain was somewhat of a kink. In fact, it caused him to move quicker, drawing even more pleased moans from his host. Suddenly, during a particularly loud noise, Marik shoved Bakura's head back, startling the paler man. With his free hand, he gave a few rapid strokes and came onto Bakura's lips and face.

He smirked, drawing his tongue over the semen he could reach with his freakishly long tongue, keeping his gaze even with Marik's, who was in a blurry post-orgasmic state. Hands loosened from his hair and dropped away completely, and low grunts had been replaced with hefty panting.

"Feel better?" Bakura cooed mockingly.

Marik looked down at him with muted disgust, "Get on the couch."

Bakura shrugged and did as he was told. The other man was giving him a calculated look as he moved a hand over and undid Bakura's zipper. The paler man's smug look widened, causing Marik to bristle.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," Marik snarled, pulling Bakura's erection free.

"How can I, when such an exotic man is about to suck my dick?"

He sneered, "I never said I was sucking it." He began rubbing the length against his palm.

Bakura's breath hitched. He began thumbing the semen off his face, keeping his gaze locked with Marik's.

"You should return the favor," Bakura finally said as he sucked on his salty finger.

Marik scoffed and continued moving his palm along Bakura's length. "You should be happy I'm just doing this."

"I'm absolutely thrilled," Bakura returned, letting out an airy grunt. "However, your mouth on my cock would make me even happier."

"I'll be sure not to do that, then."

He thumbed the slit, then, despite his words, he dipped his head and drew his tongue almost greedily over the veined shaft. Bakura grunted, staring down at his companion feverishly as he began pleasuring him with a hot, wet mouth.

Bakura wasn't as noisy as Marik when it came to blow-jobs. He simply breathed, panted, and occasionally let out an airy sigh. He was sure this frustrated Marik, because as the blow-job continued, his determination grew. He obviously couldn't use his mouth the way Bakura could, but what he couldn't do with his throat, he did with his tongue and teeth. He flicked the wet appendage against the tip and over the veins before giving them determined nips.

The light bites were what made Bakura emit a noise; pain was quite the turn on in his case. And Marik was certainly exploiting that. He looked smug, the way he looked up to meet Bakura's eye. It ticked him off, but the irritation wouldn't last. As Marik ministrations grew quicker, Bakura's impending climax drew closer. With a smirk, he grabbed Marik by the hair and slammed his cock down his throat as he came, his semen being forced down his gullet.

Bakura let out a throaty moan as Marik choked around his length. He pulled back and sputtered, his eyes wide with choke as he coughed up a few flecks of white. Bakura grinned; most of his seed had made it down Marik's throat.

After his fit, he glared daggers, "What the fuck was that?!"

"A half-assed blow-job," Bakura taunted.

"You could have warned me," Marik mumbled, turning to drink the rest of his beer, scowling at the combination of salty musk and bitterness. "Your cum tastes disgusting."

Bakura rolled his eyes and fixed his pants before leaning lethargically against the back of the couch, making himself comfortable. Marik, who was busy looking revolted, finally turned his head to Bakura and furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Why aren't you leaving?"

"Don't feel like it."

"You got what you wanted."

"Never said I wanted a blow-job."

Marik scowled at him, "It was implied."

"Hardly. I was simply doing you a favor; you looked rather tense earlier." He smirked in victory, "But now you don't."

Marik crossed his arms. Bakura knew he had no reason to argue against what was true; the man did look far more relaxed than he had only fifteen minutes ago. He gave a few grumbles and begrudgingly leaned against the couch. "Fine. I feel a little better. But I still want to know what you want."

"Maybe to just hang out? Talk?... after sex snuggles?" He added slyly, snickering at the revolted face of is companion at the mere suggestion.

"...We can play video games?" He finally suggested offhandedly.

"Video games? What are you, twelve?"

Marik scoffed, "They aren't just for kids, dumbass. I'm not a huge fan of them though." He got up and grabbed a couple Wii U controllers, "This actually isn't even mine." He continued as he tossed one of the controllers to Bakura and turned the machine on.

"What? Didja steal it?" Bakura suggested slyly, causing the other to roll his eyes.

"No. My friend Ryou let me borrow it. He and his dumb bimbo of a girlfriend are going out of town for a long 'romantic weekend'." He scowled darkly and made a face of disdain.

"Oh, do I hear a hint of resentment?" Bakura taunted as Marik changed the input of the television and started the game.

"Maybe. But I'd rather not talk about it." Marik said flatly.

Bakura shrugged; he'd have other chances to mock and bother his host. He turned his attention to the start-up screen of whatever game Marik had put in.

"...'Super Smash Bros'?" Bakura quoted.

"It came out recently. Yugi and Ryou are hardcore gamers, so of course they got the game and made me play it with them..." he sighed, "They kicked my ass."

Bakura snickered. As he held the controller and selected his character (he hadn't a clue who any of the characters were; he went with the most badass looking one though) he mulled over what he was doing. No only had he went back to this man for a third time, but he was indulging in an activity that was meant for children. Why? Why was he so amused by this human? Never before had he lowered himself to the point of spending domestic time with somebody; he fucked them and left. He didn't need a companion, he didn't need a friend. His kind didn't need those.

Then the game started. Bakura had no idea what was happening; he didn't often indulge in modern games.

"Bakura, you're holding the controller wrong!" Marik snickered.

He scowled and used Marik's example to fix himself. As the night progressed, he found himself losing to Marik constantly, despite both of them being absolutely awful. They snickered at each others mistakes and bantered back and forth. It was exciting, but not in a sexual way; it was mentally stimulating. The game wasn't, but Marik was; the banter came so naturally.

This human was quite intelligent in his own right, Bakura realized. When the insults and taunts died, it became replaced with talking. Bakura listened. He wasn't really talking about anything important per say; he simply vented. He told Bakura about his various clients and customers; he spoke with great disrespect, and Bakura couldn't help but smirk. Marik also told him about his homophobic 'friends', to which Bakura scoffed; the concept of homophobia was lost on him.

They drank more. Or at least, Marik did. Several beers into the night caused his words to become slurred. He became more judgmental as he spoke of people and how he hated so many of them. Humanity made him angry, and Bakura agreed. He spoke with such hate, such brutality, it made him shiver in delight. Marik said he only really liked a small group of people; one of his co-workers, and a few of his friends from his school days. (Bakura heard a name for the third time that evening: Ryou. This was interesting, and Bakura stored the information in the back of his mind. He would quiz Marik in the future on this 'Ryou', but his tone seemed to change anytime he mentioned the friend).

It neared one in the morning. The screen had been on the start menu for nearly an hour as Marik held a bottle of beer by the neck and grumbled angrily about loud babies. Bakura had his arms crossed and had laid his legs luxuriously across Marik's lap (the gesture had meant to annoy the man, which it did, but he had grown used to it so he didn't bother moving his feet).

Marik trailed off, losing his train of thought, "Fuck. What time is it?"

Bakura reached over, took Marik's mobile from his pocket like the ass he was and gave the time. "It's five past one."

"...Shit. I was gonna go to bed early tonight." He grumbled, finally shoving Bakura's feet off of him. "You have to go."

He raised his brow, "Can I not sleep with you?" He joked, earning a buzzed glare. Marik got up and stretched, several bones cracking in the process. Bakura followed him to the door. As the tanner man opened it, Bakura strutted by.

"Wait," Marik stopped him by putting a hand on his lithe shoulder, "You can uh... stop by whenever you want you know." He grumbled. "I mean, not when I'm at work but... yeah. Anyway, goodnight."

Bakura simply winked, "I might take you up on that offer." Then he left. As he heard the door behind him close, he let out a long sigh.

You break this addiction, no

Your favorite drug [1]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I'm Your Favorite Drug by Porcelain Black
> 
> I stuffed two fandom references in there. One is pretty obvious, but maybe not the other...
> 
> This story is just to indulge my need for demon!Bakura. But I promise there's some plot. ;)


	4. Pokerface

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, last chapter I mentioned there were a couple of fandom references. The first one was to Sonic the Hedgehog; Marik's co-worker "Miles" is actually based off of Tails. The second was a reference to Pokemon; the guy Bakura was going to give a blowjob to was N Harmonia.
> 
> **Thief King Bakura has a scene in this chapter, and his name will be 'Itja'. Originally it was to be Akefia, but I decided to go with the name I'm using in A Book Of Going Forth By Day.

It was strange how the erratic man named Bakura had integrated himself into Marik's life. It had been quite a while since the two first met, and in all honesty, Marik wasn't expecting the man to stick around, but he did.

It was steady at first. He would appear every few days, and they'd normally drink and hang out on the couch. Occasionally they would play video games (while Ryou let Marik borrow his Wii U), or they would watch random movies and shows. It was simple, and it became routine for Marik. After a long, stressing day working with idiotic clients, he would head back to his flat and decompress. It wouldn't be long before Bakura would appear, his calm and witty personality putting Marik at ease almost immediately.

He didn't know how somebody so absolutely infuriating could make him feel so comfortable. In the beginning Marik didn't quite realize this; he saw Bakura as an absolute annoyance. The man was peskily arrogant, always wearing that stupid smirk that was strangely attractive and made Marik shiver in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant. He was always speaking in an over confident manner, as if every word out of his mouth came from the lips of a God. Irritating really, though Marik always replied with a taunt or a scoff, and eventually the conversation took to banter.

The banter, Marik found, was somewhat amusing and exciting. On the outside, he appeared to be annoyed with it, but both he and Bakura knew he enjoyed it; he would never admit it, though. Who found arguing exciting for fuck's sake?

Apparently Bakura did; Marik had learned this quickly. When they began to argue and Marik spoke with fake rage, a smirk would come across the whitette's lips. It looked almost dangerous, and he supposed to the untrained eye it actually did, but Marik knew what it meant, because minutes later he usually ended up being pinned by the hips with a mouth around his cock.

This was another thing that Marik found curious. Personally, he wasn't a fan of going around and sucking dick, even if he was gay, but Bakura did. He had given Marik more head than he could possibly count at this point (an over exaggeration of course, but the point remains the same).

Sex was different as well. For years, Marik never led. He always let himself be dominated (or rather was forced), because it was all he could do. Years spent in his last relationship had left him yearning to be dominant for once, and now he was. Not once had Bakura lead; it was always Marik, and he thrived on this new found dominance. He had no idea that somebody as prideful as Bakura would allow himself to be so violently dominated, but he wasn't about to argue.

Their strange pseudo-relationship left Marik somewhat confused, but it was becoming a ritual, a routine, and Bakura was becoming a strange and unexpected form of comfort.

…

In the early hours of the afternoon, Marik was doing an oil change on a hybrid when he got a call. He planned on ignoring it, but upon seeing the caller, he picked up.

"You know it's rude to interrupt me during work, Ryou."

There was a soft giggle, one that made his heart flutter.

"Sorry Marik. But I'm calling about something really important..."

o o o

Bakura wasn't of a sociable species, so the fact he was even doing this was entirely out of character. It was the dead of night, and the air was still and biting. He didn't feel the cold as he landed rather gracefully on a roof of one of the many buildings on the Domino skyline. At the edge of the roof, a silhouette did not turn to look at him. In fact, it seemingly ignored the newcomer for a while before actually speaking.

"It's been quite a long time, Bakura."

His voice was deep and intimidating. It scraped against Bakura's ears unpleasantly. He didn't show this discomfort as he tipped his head, letting his signature lazy smirk take his lips.

It was abnormal to see one of their kind without a disguise when they were on the mortal plane. Black wings pressed against his back, and the pointed tips of his ears could just barely be seen through his outrageously wild locks. Long horns curled out from his head in a threatening manner as well.

"Not hunting tonight, Itja?"

The question was met with a scoff, and the silhouette turned and came to full height. His eyes looked like glittering amethyst gems in the light, "Of course I am. But I don't mingle with my prey like you do; I enter their dreams and paralyze their body."

"That's so boring."

"It's better than your way. It's too much of a hassle."

"But it's far more entertaining," he argued confidently.

"We are demons. Incubi. We are a powerful species, and mortals do not deserve to speak with us, nor to look upon us unless we allow it."

"And I allow them to. I am aware that they are lesser beings, but they can be rather... amusing."

Itja narrowed his eyes suspiciously. White fangs peeked out from beneath his lips when he smirked at his counterpart, "Amusing you say? Have you found a toy?"

"Perhaps."

"Don't bullshit. Either you did or you didn't."

Bakura laughed, his eyes glistening with amusement. "I have found a toy," he licked his lips, "You wouldn't believe how delicious it is to be fucked by him."

Itja made a disgusted noise. The other demon had always favored women, and always regarded Bakura in a scrutinizing manner when he allowed himself to be taken by a human. Bakura did not mind this; he enjoyed getting pounded, and he wasn't about to allow an over dramatic sense of superiority get in his way of enjoying himself.

"Have you gone back for seconds?" When Bakura merely smirked in response, Itja continued, "You never go back. He must be pretty good."

"It's been over a month, actually."

To this, Itja almost looked stunned. "I find that hard to believe. You're the most fickle piece of shit when it comes to your men. You never stay on one for more than a single night."

Bakura shrugged; he had no reason to explain himself to the other demon. He was here on business, after all.

"I sensed your presence. Have you changed territory?" Bakura asked. He wasn't particularly territorial, especially with Itja; while they were at each others throats often, fighting for prey wasn't necessary. Itja took woman, while Bakura took men. There was plenty of prey for the both of them.

"There's a particular female I have taken interest in."

"Just don't get too comfortable here. This side of Domino is mine."

Itja knew Bakura cared little for boundaries; he was simply attempting to show dominance. Black webbing stretched out from his back, horrifying wings made his frame appear far larger than he actually was. Itja was a muscular demon; he was tall, broad, and he did not show fear, even to Bakura, who had always been very ruthless.

"I can become as comfortable as I want," he replied icily, taking a step closer to the scrawnier demon.

Bakura visibly bristled, though he didn't allow himself to shift forms. There was no point in wasting the energy, especially when he knew Itja wouldn't be intimidated. If anything, he would laugh at Bakura for even attempting to appear threatening. Bakura was an old and skilled demon, but Itja older by thousands of years.

Noticing Bakura's reaction, Itja cackled and lowered his webbed wings, "I don't plan on sticking around. Your territory is pathetically empty anyway; how you've managed to sustain yourself is beyond me."

"Maybe you just aren't as skilled of a hunter as ore-sama," Bakura merely purred back, cocking his chin upwards in a haughty manner.

Itja threw his head back and let out a barking laugh. "I am thousands of years older than you! I know far more about the art of seduction than you, my scrawny friend."

Bakura scoffed and crossed his arms. "Age means nothing. Only skill."

"Which you clearly lack if you're only sticking to one human. You know you'll probably end up killing him, right?"

He shrugged, ignoring the slight twinge in his chest. "Then I'll enjoy the ride," he said with a lick of his lip. His wings twitched as he regarded Itja seriously once more, "But really. Leave my territory as soon as you're done with your woman."

"Like I said, I wasn't going to stay long." With that said, he stretched his massive wings out and launched himself from the roof, disappearing into the night.

…

Bakura, as usual, was eager to see Marik. He had an itch only the exotic Egyptian could scratch. However, as he appeared in front of his front door, he was met with waves of negative aura. The kid is definitely in a bad place right now, Bakura thought to himself in exasperation as he gave the door a rough knock.

"Go the fuck away!"

He wasn't impressed by the angry hollering coming from the other side of the door. With a grunt he used basic magic that he probably shouldn't be using around humans to open the locked door. His sensitive nose picked up the rancid scent of alcohol – a lot of it. Bakura followed his nose to the couch, where Marik was planted into the cushions, empty bottles of beer surrounding him. It was truly a pitiful sight.

"What the fuck, Ishtar?" Bakura grunted at the other man. "Stop being such a pathetic piece of shit and get up."

Marik only let out a distorted growl, so he rolled his eyes and yanked him into a sitting position. He wavered back and forth before peering up at Bakura.

"You know it's fuckin' rude to break into someone's house," he scoffed, leaning against the back of the couch and starting up at him with angry, bleary eyes.

"It's also rude to leave a guest at the door. Which you did."

"I didn't want guests. Get out."

"Not likely."

Marik growled and tried to push Bakura away, but the scrawny demon didn't budge. Marik groaned and fell back against the couch, causing Bakura to give another eye roll.

"You're being pathetic. Why?"

"Ohhhh. Bakura cares. Hell is gonna fuckin' freeze over."

"I don't care. I just know I'm not going to get dick with you moping, so spill. Why are you wallowing in your own shit?"

Marik made a 'tching' noise and got up. He wobbled a bit before he stormed around the couch and through the flat. Bakura quickly followed.

"You aren't getting out of the question that easily you effeminate shit," Bakura barked after him. Marik didn't even look back as he entered his bedroom, slammed the door in his face, then locked it.

"Wow. Real mature." Bakura scoffed through the door.

"Get the fuck out! I don't want to talk about it. I just want to get drunk n' sleep."

The demon rolled his eyes for the second time. Again. Against his better judgment, he easily unlocked the door and meandered right into the room. "Look, hooker, I'm trying to be fucking nice here."

Marik was laying face down on his bed. He peered up and attempted to glare with drunken eyes."You're really bad at it."

"Be thankful I'm even trying."

Marik pushed himself into a sitting position. For a few moments, he looked as if he were having an internal debate before he suddenly growled, "He's getting fucked engaged."

Bakura sat down on the edge of the bed with enough confidence for one to assume it was his. "He? Who? Ryou?"

Marik nodded. The haze seemed to disappear from his eyes, replaced with a sizzling rage. "He told me today that he's taking his girlfriend on a romantic trip to Nara, and then he's going to propose."

Marik's words were coming out as enraged snarls. Bakura merely listened as he continued, "They've only been dating for what? Two years? And hes going to get married to her? She's a total manipulative bitch."

"But aren't all women?" Bakura hummed a he took a moment to examine his nails. This made Marik bristle more.

"No. Not like her. She pressured him into the damn relationship! Always glued to his hip like a fucking parasite. And now they're getting married. I have to be the best man at their wedding." Marik had now gotten off the bed and began to pace around the room all in a tizzy. Bakura watched wordlessly as he laid against the bed, his eyes never leaving the tense frame of the other man's body.

"Come here." Bakura demanded, causing Marik to turn and glower.

"I told you I don't want to fuck tonight."

The demon rolled his eyes. "I was going to offer a massage you idiot."

"A massage...?"

"Yes, a massage. You're all tense and freaking out. You need to calm down."

A look of discomfort came across his angry features. The change in his body language was dramatic and immediate. "I don't need a massage."

"Just get your ass over here."

Marik glared predictably at being ordered around before he meandered back to the bed and sat down on the edge.

"Okay, take off your shirt and lay on your stomach – and don't give me that look. It's not like I'm going to shove my cock up your ass."

The other man still looked skeptical. He turned away, his back hunched in a tense and uncomfortable manner before he took it by the bottom hem and slid it over his head. Prior to this, Bakura had never seen Marik's back. The other was very careful when they had sex that his shirt was never removed – so when Marik did remove his shirt, Bakura found an unexpected and shocking sight.

The scars of an old wound was strewn across his back in a haphazard arrangement of random white streaks. Each mark was a straight line that had obviously been a horrible wound when it was first inflicted – the scars were risen and puffy, even though the white hue suggested they were years old. From what Bakura could see from the marks... Marik had been whipped at some point in his life, and by somebody not very kind.

Bakura took only a second to take all this in. He reached over to the bedside table where there was a convenient tube of lotion and squirted some onto his palm while Marik laid on his stomach. Bakura moved to straddle his upper thighs as he rubbed his slick hands together to warm them up.

"...Don't pretend like you don't see them," Marik growled quietly from beneath him.

Bakura scoffed at the other. "What, were you expecting sympathy?"

"No."

"Good. Fishing for acceptance is so unattractive."

"These scars are unattractive."

"So is lack of confidence. I didn't take you for being as self-conscious as a teenage girl."

Marik finally looked back at him and threw a glare over his shoulder. "I'm not!"

Bakura planted his palms against his shoulders and leaned over his body to glare down at him. "Yes, you are. Stop being a little bitch about it."

Marik suddenly began wiggling and tried to throw him off. In his inebriated state, he put up a pathetic fight. Bakura remained on his legs, easily holding him down until he wore himself out with struggles and curses.

"Now, if you're done throwing a tantrum..." Bakura muttered, sitting back again and moving his slick fingers over the marred surface of his back. "I'm going to finish this massage, then maybe you'll calm the fuck down."

"...I hate you."

Bakura merely smirked and continued with his work, his fingers moving expertly over the flesh of the other. In his many years, he learned exactly which spots of the body brought the most pleasure, and which brought the most pain. He ran his palms softly over the expansion of Marik's back with surprisingly soft strokes, moving down to the small of his back up to his perfect neck, spreading the lotion across his skin. Bakura could still feel how tense his partner was, so he decided to use his knuckles. He could feel the muscles beneath the back of his fingers twitch as they began to relax.

He gently kneaded Marik's shoulders, feeling the small knots beneath the risen white skin. They felt like rubber as Bakura flipped his hands back around and began running his fingers along his back again. He twisted his wrists, allowing his hands to bring Marik much needed pleasure. A groan escaped the others lips finally, and Bakura smirked to himself victoriously.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked with a haughty tone.

Marik let out another moan in response. It might have been an actual response, but it was indistinguishable past his slurred noises of bliss.

Bakura continued his work, finding himself gaining enjoyment by listening to Marik's noises. After a few moments of quiet, broken only by moans, he pushed out a question.

"How did you get them?"

The reason for asking such a question wasn't clear to him. He did not care about the affairs and problems of mortals; they were insignificant and selfish beings. And yet this specific mortal sparked his interest enough for him to care, even if it was a miniscule amount. Perhaps he was merely afraid of losing his toy.

Bakura felt the muscles tense beneath his nimble strokes. There was an expansion of silence until Marik began to speak.

"I grew up in Egypt, you know," Marik began. Bakura sensed a long story, but he didn't stop him. "With my brother, my sister, and my father. My mother had died when I was very young, so it was Ishizu – my sister – who took care of us. Even though Rishid – my brother – was way older, she resembled a mother to both of us. My father expected her to be the woman of the house because he refused to re-marry. He saw me as the man of the family, the one to carry on the Ishtar name – which is apparently a really powerful name. I don't know, I never paid attention, but he had a lot of pride in the family name. Rishid was a disappointment, since he was merely adopted. Luckily, my father wasn't around much, so we didn't have to deal with him in the early years...

"I was always on the flamboyant side I suppose – I was always considered 'feminine', which if you know anything about the culture there, that's a very bad thing. I liked keeping my hair long and I liked wearing my sister's jewelry. The gold always made me shimmer and I liked that. She tried to explain to be I shouldn't be doing that. She was always on the soft side though, so when I begged her to let me wear her necklace to school, she let me. It was just an amethyst stone on a cheap golden chain. This was a mistake, because I was instantly called a girl when I got to school. I was a house of cards when I was younger, so I left school early and ran home crying."

Marik halted for a moment to scoff. "Over the years, I kept getting the insults, and they progressed, so I became tough. I began throwing insults back. I said things no child should say. I became a rotten child, I admit, but it was because people are assholes. It wasn't long before the whole school knew who I was, including the principal. He contacted by father when I actually punched somebody in the face for calling me a faggot. Needless to say, my father wasn't happy. He smacked me and told me not to do things to disrespect the family name. Suddenly, he became more involved. It constantly told me to cut my hair, to stop being so 'girly'.

"He wasn't afraid to get physical, but it was usually just a smack across the face. This just made me angrier. I was sick of the damn insults – they wouldn't go the fuck away. At that point. I didn't even know my sexuality. They were just assuming based on ridiculous fucking stereotypes. It wasn't until I was twelve that I realized I was different... there was a boy at school. Unlike the other boys, he wasn't cruel to me. He would talk to me behind the school building during lunch. He would draw inappropriate things in the dust – like tits. For some reason I remember this discussion so clearly – he started talking about women. The conversation bored me, though I wasn't sure why. Surely, as a preteen, I should have been obsessed with boobs?"

Marik let out a dry laugh. "I hung around him a lot. We never were together during school, but we would walk home together. Sometimes we would play pranks on the neighbors, which was really fun because he had a sick sense of humor like I did. It progressed from flaming bags of dog shit on their front door to roadkill in their mailboxes. We became best friends... but during that time, I was attempting to come to terms with my sexuality. I found that sometimes I felt compelled to hold his hand, to sit next to him on a bench under the stars – and don't laugh you shit, I was still young."

Bakura had begun snickering at Marik's cheesiness. He quieted down and allowed the other to continue.

"Then, when I was thirteen, I made a mistake. We were going over homework in my room – and by going over homework, I mean we were bickering and wrestling. Our homework didn't even make it out of our backpacks. Then, during a quiet moment, I suddenly got the compulsion to kiss him, so I did. I didn't even have a chance to pull away when my father chose the worst fucking time to walk in. He told my friend to leave, who did without hesitation. My father, as you can imagine, was not happy. He yelled about how he should have seen this coming, and how I was a disgrace. I wasn't offended by his words, I was angry. I was angry with him and myself."

Marik pushed out a pained sigh. "That's when it happened. He took the belt out of his pant looks and told me he would teach me a lesson, that I was not to be a 'cock-sucker', as he so gracefully put it. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I stayed there."

There was a quiet pause. Bakura's fingers were tracing the long streaks of scars as he reflected on Marik's story. He then spoke, "...I just asked how you got them, I didn't ask for your life story."

Marik wiggled and turned onto his back before glaring up at him. "Too bad. You got to hear my tragic past," he joked dryly, causing Bakura to smirk.

"Ah yes, you poor soul," Bakura replied, scooting up to straddle his hips. "Perhaps you would like me to sate your paint a bit?"

"I told you, I'm not in the mood to fuck you."

"Not even after that massage?" Bakura purred, dragging his fingers up the other man's muscled front, noting the way they shivered beneath his touch.

"Nope." Marik was adamant in his refusal, causing Bakura to scoff.

"I suppose you don't have to fuck me. There are other ways to bring gratification."

"I'm not in the mood for any sexual activity – oooh – g-god damn it, don't do that!" Marik suddenly hissed as Bakura ground himself against his groin.

"I could make you in the mood." Bakura replied, peering down at the other in a cocky manner. He was sure of his skills as a master seducer, whether he used his magic or not.

Marik glared, but he remained quiet. Both of them obviously knew that Marik couldn't resist Bakura, so saying otherwise would be a blatant lie.

"...Fine. You'll probably coerce me into something anyway." Marik growled finally and glanced away.

Bakura trailed a finger sensually across Marik's delicious neck. He could see the skin twitch slightly in the digit's wake. "I'll make you forget all about that tragic past of yours, hm?"

"We'll see."

Bakura dipped down and began showering Marik's body in attention. His touches were feather-light as he trailed them up and down his front, before curling his fingers ever so slightly to allow his nails to rake his skin lightly. A gasp was drawn from Marik's lips.

"Are you sure you're not in the mood? You certainly sound like it..." Bakura murmured with a dangerous tinge on the edge of his tone as he rolled his hips downwards.

I won't tell you that I love you

Marik wordlessly hissed. He peered up at the demon, his expression wanton. With a smirk, he sat back and pulled off his shirt. He quickly rid them both of their pants and socks, leaving them grinding against one another in their underwear. The arrival of their erections came quick with their grinding. Bakura pushed out a moan as he dipped his face into Marik's lovely neck, enjoying the sensation spreading through the lower half of his body. Even through the thin cloth, it wasn't enough.

Kiss or hug you[1]

It was Marik who tugged their underwear down so their erections were bare. They eagerly ground against one another, both finding their orgasms against each others stomachs. With a final moan Marik pulled away and rolled onto his side, the emotional turmoil, alcohol and sexual gratification causing sleep to come almost immediately. Bakura peered down at the drooling mess before he got off the bed.

"Attractive." Bakura hummed to himself as he clothes himself and stared down at the man. He smirked, a bit of fang peeking out from beneath a pink lip. "I'll be back... I have some business."

o o o

His evening routine was simple. Burn dinner, sit on the stained armchair, and read torn history textbooks that he had practically memorized. To read them made him feel educated, even if he already knew the material. Ancient Egypt was a fascinating time period. He loved the values they held. If only those values still existed today... He sighed in an angry manner and thought of his "son", the pathetic excuse for a man. There was no way he would have survived the harsh world of Ancient Egypt.

He took a bite of the blackened potatoes he assumed was food and kept eating, unbeknownst to the shadows shifting around him. The light bulb in his lamp flickered, though it didn't catch his attention; most things in his house were old and faulty. He worked a simple job in a mosque, so he did not get paid well enough to live in the luxury he had once known. He took the edge of the old paper between his wrinkled fingers.

Suddenly the torn curtains began going wild. He glanced up at the tattered cloth, not appearing to be particularly worried. Perhaps he left the window open and there was a breeze? He sighed at his own mistake and got up to close the window, mumbling tiredly all the while. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake these days; he was a tired man. The simple task of closing the window was an effort, let alone remembering if he had actually left it open in the first place. What had he been thinking?

He turned back to his dinner and book, only to find both missing from where he had left the next to the chair. He barely had time to furrow his brows in confusion before the light-bulb beneath the lampshade suddenly shattered to pieces with a wild spark. He jumped back with a startled yell as the lampshade went up in flames.

"These damn old appliances!"He hissed madly to himself as he spun around to grab the fire extinguisher that he left under the sink, only to stop in horror at the sight of a physical shadow standing in the doorway. It shifted and rolled before taking a form.

"A... a demon?!" He took a step back, nearly forgetting about the fire as the beast stood in front of him. Though he took the form of a man, he had curled horns and massive wings.

The creature stared and grinned. Cackles echoed around the room as he took a few steps, forcing the man against the wall. The fire began to spread, flames lapping around the demon.

He was horrified. He screamed prayers, though they did nothing to stop the advancing form. If anything, the attempts at keeping the creature at bay caused the cruel laughter to become louder. He squeezed his eyes shut, hearing words echo forth as icy pain enveloped his body.

"Have fun in Hell, Ishtar."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Pokerface by Ladygaga (though my Thiefshipping playlist has the version done by Blowsight)


	5. Flesh

Marik wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when he answered the door at 2:23 AM.

The knock had been loud and obnoxious enough to drag him from the comfortable throes of sleep and into the painful realm of reality. His head throbbed with the affects of the alcohol he had consumed during the evening, though it wasn't as intense as it could have been if he woke up in the later hours of the morning. The massage Bakura had given also helped to sooth his otherwise sore muscles.

The knocking grew impatient and repetitive, implying it was Bakura ready to break the door down, but the hairs on the back of his neck rose at the possibilities of his night visitor. He was compelled to grab the broom on the way to the door and hold it tight as he unlocked it.

Though instead of confronting his worst nightmare, Bakura stood at the door, drenched in a disturbing amount of blood. The stench of smoke clung to him as well, making bile rise in the back of Marik's throat. The broom slipped out of his grasp as he gawked at the other man, no words coming from his mouth.

Bakura didn't barge in as he usually did. He stood still, a calculating look across his pale features, as if waiting for a response.

Finally, after a solid half-minute of staring, Marik stuttered, "What the fuck?"

The other man cocked an eyebrow before a sardonic smirk rose on his lips and he let out a bark of a laugh, causing Marik to nearly flinch.

"Is that all you have say? You don't look nearly as horrified as I'd had hoped."

If anything, Marik looked slightly disgusted, though horror didn't cross him. As Bakura tried to move in, Marik bristled and put a hand on his chest to keep him back.

"Take off your fucking shoes. You're not tracking that shit in my apartment."

Bakura scoffed and kicked off his shoes, leaving them by the door. Marik briefly realized that despite his shoes being covered in red liquid, none was tracked on the carpet outside the door. With growl, Marik slammed the door shut and turned to Bakura.

"I was sleeping."

Bakura gave him another curious yet amused look. "I can tell. Your hair is hideous."

Marik sneered. "So is yours," he grunted, looking up at the crimson-spattered hair. He curled his nose in disgust and grabbed Bakura's scrawny wrist, pulling him towards the bathroom. He plugged the sink and filled it with cold water before turning around and forcefully tugging Bakura's shirt off. The water ran pink when he threw it into the water.

"Put your pants in there," Marik grunted before he turned towards the shower and switched it on. Steam quickly filled the room as the stream of water heated up. Bakura continued to look on with some sort of sick amusement, to which Marik purposely ignored. He was more annoyed than anything. He shoved the other man unkindly into the shower stall before stripping and getting in to join him.

It was quiet save for the echo of the water hitting the tiles. As he turned the other man around and squeezed shampoo into his hair, Bakura finally spoke.

"You don't seem very surprised. I was hoping for more of a reaction." He sounded regretful.

Marik merely scoffed and began scrubbing at Bakura's hair. "What? You showing up covered in blood? Should I be surprised?."

"Most people who consider that to be quite strange, and dare I say, terrifying."

"Well, I'm not like most people, am I?"

Bakura sighed woefully. "Absolutely no fun."

Marik tugged at the other man's hair forcefully in response, which coaxed a growl (of pain or pleasure, he couldn't tell). Once the thick locks were soapy enough, he shoved Bakura under the spray.

"...My ex was a bit on the crazy side." Marik finally muttered as he ran his fingers through the the other male's hair, de-tangling the mess as he went. "So I'm used to it. It's no surprise to me."

"Apparently crazy enough to dub someone showing up bloody on your doorstep as normal?"

Marik chuckled at this, though it came it rather humorless. "Yes... he was."

Bakura let out a snort of disbelief. "Sounds like my kind of guy."

The tanner of the two sighed and grabbed his conditioner and began scrubbing at his white locks. "I doubt it."

"Care to elaborate?"

"What is this, 'Marik talks about his past' day?" He grunted, tugging at Bakura's hair again. "I think I've told you enough when I shared that information about my father earlier."

Bakura spun around and languorously draped his arms around the other male's shoulders, giving him a sultry gaze. "I find you interesting."

"Thanks." Marik replied dryly, unamused. He pushed the arms off of him and spun Bakura around again. "Stay still. Your hair isn't completely clean yet."

"I think red suits me quite well, though."

Marik snorted, but he had to agree, red was a good color for Bakura. It definitely brought out his abnormally colored eyes. "It does."

"Did seeing me covered in blood give you dirty thoughts?"

"You wish."

"I don't wish. I know."

"Obviously–" Marik tugged violently at a knot, "–You don't. You may get a hard-on for being drenched in blood, but I don't. Do I even want to know why you were covered in it in the first place?"

"Are you sure you're ready to ask such a question, my dear Marik?"

"...No. Forget I asked."

"Maybe I will, if you tell me more about this rather interesting ex of yours." Bakura reasoned, glancing back at him cunningly.

Marik scowled. Oh how he hated thinking about things he would prefer were left buried six feet under. "Fine. As long as you agree to stop being an annoying asshole."

"I can't make any promises."

He rolled his eyes and shoved the other under the water again to rinse out the conditioner suds. "I met him when I was still in High-School, some shit happened, then we broke up."

"Now, now Marik, you know that's not what I meant," Bakura purred as he turned around and put his hands on the tanner man's hips. "I said elaborate."

"I don't know why you're so curious. You normally don't give a shit."

Bakura raised a brow. "Maybe I feel like giving a shit right now," he replied. "It'll make you feel better if you tell me."

Marik frowned and reached over to grab the body wash.

"'Passionfruit'?" Bakura asked as he read the label. "You're so fucking gay."

Marik swatted him in the chest and squirted the thick gunk onto a washcloth and began washing the other man's lanky chest. "Do you want to hear about my ex or not?"

"Entertain me with your stories." Bakura purred.

"His name was Asad[1]. I met him when I was in High-School. He looked creepy as fuck when I first saw him, the way he stared at everyone like they were a piece of meat... and yet I felt compelled to engage with him."

"Love at first sight, huh?" Bakura said in a honeyed manner.

"Shut up. It wasn't like that. There was something else about him... he was incredibly alluring and it excited me."

"Teenage hormones?"

"What did I just tell you to do?" Marik snapped. "Anyway, he didn't approach me first, but he watched me when I walked home from school. He would only appear when Ryou left to go down his street and had to leave me to finish the walk alone. After about a week, I challenged him, figuring he was stalking me or some shit – he didn't exactly deny it, but me being me at the time, I didn't really care."

"Weren't very smart back then either, hmm?" Bakura asked mockingly, earning himself a smack to the face with a soapy washcloth.

"Our sexual relationship was almost immediate. It drew me in; he just gave off an aura of eroticism without even trying. Honestly, within only weeks, I would have done anything for him. But I should have seen the signs..." He sighed. "He was incredibly controlling. He didn't like Ryou, he didn't like my family – he didn't like anybody hanging around me. He made this very clear, and yet I did nothing about it, until one day he demanded I stopped being friends with Ryou. It was difficult, but like I said, I was ready to do anything.

"My already shitty grades dropped. It's not like I wasn't smart, I just began to miss school to hang out with him. Sometimes I'd go days without showing up if it meant hanging around Asad. Which probably wasn't particularly healthy of me since I was only a teenager at the time and he... well, he didn't exactly live in a small, dingy apartment. He lived in a really nice flat downtown, and it was full of luxurious items, and yet I never saw him work a day in his life. It wasn't long after that I realized he was..." Marik suddenly paused. "I found something out that I really didn't want to know. From there, it just all went downhill. He was incredibly violent and into some illegal stuff. There were times he would come home drenched in blood, or had tattered clothes. At first it was shocking of course, but then I grew quite used to it and just cleaned up any mess he made like the obedient bitch he had me become.

"He also kept me from seeing my friends, my family. I remained under his constant supervision, sometimes not even leaving his flat." Marik scoffed. "I was willing to do it at first – he was so intoxicating and manipulative. But as time went on it got worse. If I so much as spoke out of turn, there were consequences. Yet he spoke of loving me, of worshiping my body, of keeping me forever. It was suffocating. I couldn't do it anymore. I didn't even care about the addicting sex, I just wanted out. So I did something rather... drastic and took my leave. Haven't seen him since."

Marik wasn't expecting him to listen so well. It was nice to get the story off his chest, since only Ryou knew how extensively abusive Asad had been, and even then he hadn't known all the horrors. Still, he would have preferred not saying anything at all. His past wasn't a topic he liked to dwell on.

Bakura ran his hands up Marik's front. "You've had such a traumatic past," he purred quietly. "No wonder you're so fucked up."

Marik scoffed as he threw the washcloth aside and let Bakura touch his body. "Oh yeah? What about you?"

"Hm? What about me?" Bakura asked, running his thumbs over the other male's collarbone.

"...You're such a mystery," Marik murmured, staring at Bakura with intensity, his fingers coming up to touch a pale cheek. He knew next to nothing about this man except for his unbearable personality and hot body.

Bakura turned away from the tender gesture, appearing to be uncomfortable. "I prefer it that way. Not all of us just go around spewing our history." He scoffed.

"You were the one that pressured me into sharing. I thought you found me interesting?" He asked teasingly.

"Well, now that I've learned all there is about you, You're not longer interesting," Bakura responded woefully, pretending to move away.

Marik captured him in his arms and pushed him against the tiled interior of the shower stall. "Oh? I'm sure I can keep you interested." He purred, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive way.

"Oh yeah?" Bakura smirked, letting himself be pinned by the other man. "Care to elaborate how? I'm dying to know."

Marik grazed his nails down Bakura's front, drifting lower and lower across the pallid skin. "What if I fucked you against the shower wall?" He asked in an almost innocent tone.

Marik could feel the shivers of anticipation pass through Bakura. "Tempting, but not enough to keep me interested... maybe if you added a bit more details to your claim, I might be willing to stick around."

A hum escaped the man as he continued touching Bakura's body, his fingers trailing circles across his hip bones. "What if I went nice and slow, dragging it out, torturing you. You would be so close... but never close enough. You would demand and beg for me to go faster."

Bakura's eyes were lit with lust at the proposition Marik gave him. "I like the sound of this much better. How hard would you take me in the end to finish me off?"

"Until your ass is raw."

Bakura's tongue came out to trail across his pink lips, making Marik want to moan in anticipation. He always knew how to use his tongue, even if it wasn't on him in some lewd manner. Marik leaned against the other, feeling the beginnings of an erection poking against his hip.

"Excited already? That eager to get fucked?" He asked the paler man, his hand sliding between their bodies to jerk him off. Bakura let out an airy groan, the smirk staying on his lips as Marik slid his palm up and down his shaft. He rolled his hips, forcing his cock against the soft flesh of Marik's hand.

"What can I say?" Bakura asked, tipping his chin back. "I love to fuck."

"I know. You have a libido to match Asad's" Marik scoffed as he yanked at the ever-growing erection.

"I'd say so do you," Bakura replied huskily as he leaned in to press his lips to Marik's wet neck. He groaned, tipping his chin to the side and allowing Bakura to graze his lips and teeth across the sensitive flesh.

Push up to my body

Sink your teeth into my flesh

Marik hissed as Bakura violently bit into his neck. He shuddered, finding it to be intoxicating and gratifying. He panted and squeezed at Bakura's cock, eliciting a moan of pleasure from him, channeling his pleasure that Bakura's mouth so erotically provided.

Bakura pulled away, and Marik saw the flecks of blood around the edge of his lips. He slapped a hand over his neck, finding there was a bleeding wound.

"Are you some sort of vampire?" He mocked.

"I'm just a sadist." Bakura purred as he took Marik's wet cock, which had grown hard. "And it seemed you liked it."

Marik scoffed and took his hand away from Bakura. "Turn around." He commanded in a tone that visually made Bakura shiver. He turned around obediently and shamelessly spread his legs, looking back at Marik with a wanton expression.

Marik shoved the other harshly against the tiles and put his hand between his legs, massaging the flesh behind his testicles before moving towards the thick ring of muscle that made him moan.

Get undressed

Taste the flesh

Bakura rolled his hips back, not holding back his verbal appreciation and praise as Marik rubbed his fingers against the muscles, forcing them to relax under his ministrations.

"Don't prep me." Bakura growled huskily.

"I'm going to prep you. We don't even have lubricant in here."

He hissed, throwing a glare back at Marik. It faltered when Marik shoved a finger through the barrier and into the tight heat.

"You know I love the pain." Bakura continued to persuade Marik, purposely clenching his muscles in protest. "Just take me now. I'm not going to wait for your dick."

Marik pulled his finger out and huffed. "You're fucking ridiculous. Don't bitch at me later when I tear you apart."

Bite into me harder

Sink your teeth into my flesh

Bakura sneered and stared back eagerly, grinding his ass against Marik's cock to further convince him. It worked, since Marik could hardly hold back anymore. He spread the other man's cheeks and pushed himself in. There was a grunt from Bakura as Marik forced his way past tense muscles and into the tight warmth. The tanner male let out a pleased sigh while Bakura balled his hands into fists.

Marik decided that he didn't want to wait for Bakura to get used to the feeling. He dug his nails harshly into the flesh of Bakura's ass and began thrusting at a quick speed, giving no time for preparation. Bakura howled in a wanton manner and pressed his cheek against the side of the stall.

Pass the test

Taste the flesh

"Fuuuck yes..." Bakura groaned as Marik slammed into him. Marik could agree, though he merely just grunted and panted as he shoved in and out, the friction caused by lack of lubrication bringing more pleasure and heat.

After he set up a rhythm, he suddenly remembered he was supposed to be going slow to torture the other man, so he began to purposely slow down, moving in an out at a languid speed. This caused irritated growls to rise from Bakura, but Marik continued. Even if it was almost painful going at such a speed, it was worth it to know Bakura was suffering as well.

"Go faster!" Bakura commanded, wiggling his ass against Marik's length again. He was obviously displeased with the change in speed, given the way he was glaring venomous daggers at the tanner man.

"I don't think so~" Marik purred, enjoying Bakura's irritation.

Suddenly, Bakura pulled away, forcing Marik's cock to slid out of him. He turned around and faced the other man, his expression dark. "I thought I said I don't want to wait for your dick," he growled.

Marik rolled his eyes. "I've spoiled you. I was just messing around, you know."

Bakura put his arms around the others shoulders and wrapped one of his legs around Marik's waist, licking his lips. He gave the other a look of both impatience and seduction. "You better fuck me right now, Ishtar,"

Marik shuddered at the tone, pinned him against the wall again and hoisted both his legs around his waist. He scoffed at the demands, though he couldn't argue that he wanted nothing more than to fuck Bakura's brains out.

Hold me up against the wall

Give it till I beg [2]

He shoved his way in again, this time resuming with a quicker speed. Bakura moaned in appreciation, dropping his head on Marik's shoulder. Marik groaned as his cock slid in and out of the heat, the sensations were so intoxicating he could thrust into the other until the end of his days. His legs tightened around his waist, grunts of pleasured pain echoing along with the spatter of water against the tiles.

"Yesss, Ishtar, harder~" Bakura moaned before letting out a guttural groan in his ear, his nails digging into Marik's scarred back out of both desperation and pleasure.

Marik was more than willing to oblige as he pushed his hips forward with extra power, slamming into Bakura, Once he had picked up a reasonable pace, he purposely aimed for the other man's prostate. He knew he hit it when Bakura threw his head back and nearly yelled in pleasure.

"Right there Ishtar~ yeah, that's right~" He purred huskily, his mouth hanging open, showing off his abnormally long canines.

The two continued this violent, heated rhythm. Marik was sure to aim for that same spot, bringing Bakura more and more gratification. His moans fueled his actions, making his body hotter and hotter. He gazed at Bakura, at his pleasure, his perfect pink lips and intense, crimson eyes that were glazed over in pleasure. Even in the throes of sex, Bakura still managed to have a sardonic smirk across his face.

Marik leaned his forehead against Bakura's, finding his intense gaze incredible addicting and intoxicating. It stole all of his attention and drew him in like a moth to a light, and when he got close enough, it burned so wonderfully. His whole body was hot, his sweat draining away with the water that streamed down his body. He could feel Bakura's breath against his lips, his nails in his back, his clenching heat suffocating his cock. Their lips hovered inches away from each other, their noses grazing, their eyelashes threatening to tangle.

With a furious moan, Bakura pushed their lips together in a violent kiss. The collision of their lips hurt, but Marik found himself welcoming it. It was an uncontrollable exchange laced with an intoxicating combination of lust and malice. Bakura's teeth dug into his lip until Marik was sure it was bleeding before he shoved his tongue through the barrier, boldly demanding entry.

Bakura's orgasm was more sudden than usual. He shamelessly moaned into Marik's mouth as cum covered their stomachs before it washed away. His inner muscles tensed, his heat becoming unbearably tight. With a grunt, Marik reached his end, filling Bakura with hot semen. The two males lingered there for a moment before they untangled with weak knees and languid movements. Marik switched the shower off and stepped out, drying himself off with haste. He left his hair damp as he discarded the towel and headed into the bedroom.

The session had worn him out again. He flopped down into the unkempt bed and stared at Bakura, who stood dripping wet in the doorway of the bathroom. He had a strange and unreadable expression on his face, though Marik brushed it off.

"Go dry off and come sleep with me." Marik told the other man, though he knew it was futile to suggest it since Bakura never stayed the night. He rolled over in bed and listened to the quiet movements of the other male, before they ceased completely. Curious, Marik called out for Bakura, but he gained no response.

The man had left.

Big surprise. He thought as he rolled back into position. As he laid in the gloom, a nightlight in the corner casting a small stream of light, he reached up and tenderly brushed his bruised lip with his finger.

That was the first time they had ever kissed.

...

He groaned as he rose up off the bed the next morning and padded into the bathroom. He noticed Bakura's clothes were in the sink still as he answered the call of nature. He snorted, not even surprised anymore, and left the bathroom in search of some sort of breakfast. He settled for a couple of burnt scrambled eggs with ketchup while he watched the news. He vaguely paid attention to the happenings of the world before his text tone went off. He grabbed the dying phone off the coffee table and saw there was a message from Yugi.

Yugi: [Hey u up]

Marik: [Yeah, I have to go to work this morning]

Yugi: [Wanna meet up for coffee first]

Marik: [The usual place?]

Yugi: [Yup]

Yugi: [8ish?]

Marik: [Sure I'll meet you there]

Marik sighed. He supposed he would have to leave earlier than he anticipated. He set the plate of half finished eggs on the coffee table and went back to his bedroom to get dressed. He threw on clean boxers, his work jeans, a tanktop and a jacket. He checked his phone and with a curse realized he would be late. He scrambled into his shoes, grabbed his wallet and keys, and swiftly left the apartment without a second thought.

Despite his tardiness, he made it to the coffee shop rather quickly. It was a pleasant little place, though it was commonly used by Americans staying in Japan, so he could only partially understand the people talking around him. He spotted Yugi at a table in the corner, who waved him over.

"I got you dark roast," he said as he scooted a cup towards Marik.

Marik took the cup with a mumbled thanks.

Yugi gazed at Marik curiously as he drank, surprised when he didn't even flinch as the hot liquid touched his tongue. "Marik? Are you okay?" He wondered.

Marik's eyes suddenly focused and he jumped a little, as if he forgot his surroundings entirely. "What? Oh, I'm fine." He lied. "Just tired this morning. The coffee will help." He then took another sip, this time flinching as it touched his tongue.

Yugi smiled sympathetically. "You seem distant. Did you have a busy night?"

"Sort of." Marik muttered, his thoughts turning to the previous night. It was a little hazy, since he had been drunk for part of it. "A bit hungover from drinking."

"You need to slow down a bit, Marik. It can't be good to be drinking as much as you do."

"I don't do it that much."

Yugi looked skeptical. "Marik..." He sighed. "I worry about you."

"Well don't." He grunted, drawing circles in the table with his index finger. "I'm fine." He repeated.

Again, Yugi didn't look so convinced, but he knew Marik well enough not to push it. "Okay, fine. But I'm open ears if you want to talk." He told him.

"I'll remember that."

He smiled then. "So... Hear about Ryou?"

Marik stared absently at his cup. "Yeah... I did." He replied stoically.

Yugi looked as if he regretted asking. "He just told me last night, over text." He added. "He told me he told you over the phone, but he was worried because you didn't found very happy."

Ah... Ryou was always good at seeing my lies, Marik thought to himself. "I was just tired." He lied. "I'm happy for him."

"Marik... –"

"–I am!" He snapped. "Ryou is my best friend. I want him to be happy."

"Even at the expense of your own?"

The question weighed heavily on Marik's shoulders. He didn't look up from his drink. As he willing to sacrifice his own happiness and his own comfort to remain being Ryou's friend, even when he gets married and began a family?

There was no question in Marik's mind.

"Yes. It doesn't matter what I feel for him, or what I used to feel, I can't change the fact he's straight, and that he's with Miho." Marik replied. " All I want for him is happiness... I just have to grow up and deal with his decision."

Yugi nodded slowly and played with the tip of his straw.

Marik sighed. "I was such an idiot. I could barely congratulate him yesterday. He probably thinks I'm angry with him." He muttered. "I should give him a call tonight... Maybe invite him out next week."

"I think that would be best." Yugi replied with a smile.

The two spoke for a bit longer before they went their separate ways. After speaking with his friend, he felt a little better. He went through the day mulling over how he would apologize to Ryou, though occasionally his thoughts drifted to another certain white-haired man...

After he timed out and drove home, he found he was growing impatient, so he got his phone out to give Ryou a call, hoping he wouldn't be busy with Miho, only to see he had received a text from an unknown number.

He sighed and opened the message. His eyes widened with shock. The unknown individual had sent him a picture of a himself with no other context. Marik was met with a deranged grin and spiky hair as the man looked into the camera with a crazed and hungry expression...

It made him feel sick.

Growing frightened, he recognized his own apartment in the background. For a split moment, his mind whirled as he wondered if he should confront him or run away...

His feet acted on their own as he rushed up to his flat. The door was shut, but unlocked as he threw it open with ease. Inside, the whole apartment was a wreck. Miscellaneous objects such as lamps and magazines laid in disarray, while furniture had been knocked over. His couch lay on its back, while all the chairs were scattered about the kitchen and living room. The television was cracked and emitting small sparks, while the fridge door was open and food had been scattered about the kitchen.

If he hadn't received the text, he would have assumed it was a burglary. He was livid, but it was overcome by terror. He was in trouble. He knew his very life was at risk if he lingered too long. He had his phone and wallet–he could leave and stay at a hotel, or perhaps with Yugi and Anzu. He began to back away, but behind him the door slammed shut of seemingly its own accord.

He could feel hot, moist air on the side of his neck, and someone emitted a low cackle, causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise.

A voice, harsh and grating, yet smooth as a forest brook on a summer afternoon, whispered near his ear, "Long time no see."

Marik clenched his hand into a fist and with a furious yell, he whipped around, his fist swinging into open air. His eyes darted to and fro as he desperately tried to spot the person he hated most in the world.

"Oops. Too slow." The voice hissed mockingly.

He felt pressure around both his arms, holding him in place. He struggled and growled, terrified tears threatening to spill.

"Hayaty... I'm so hurt. It's been so long since we've seen each other, and you greet me with malice... This simply won't do."

Suddenly, there was a crack as something hard collided with the back of his head. Pain overwhelmed him and he helplessly slithered to the ground, his head spinning and vision going blurry.

"There we go." The other said simply. The man's outline was fuzzy as Marik looked up at him with an unsteady gaze.

"Now, be a good little bitch and sleep for me." His grating voice soothed. Marik fought to stay awake, but a strange feeling came over him, making each limb light and tingly. He slowly closed his eyes, darkness overtaking him.

o o o

Bakura decided to walk to Marik's apartment rather than just phasing there like he usually did. His feet moved sluggishly along the pavement, his hands shoved in his jean pockets. He was deep in thought, his mind full of confusing and human-like emotions. He regretted his actions the previous night.

Not killing Marik's father. No, he quite enjoyed sending the man to Hell. It was something else that was bugging him, grating on his mind like an annoying fly buzzing at his ear. He had kissed Marik. He never kissed anyone in his centuries of life. Kisses were too intimate, too human. They were a form of expressing love and compassion, emotions a creature like him could never begin to fathom.

Yet he expressed with all the same through that clumsy kiss. He stuck his tongue out in disgust as he walked up the stairs to Marik's flat. He wasn't sure what he was going to tell Marik, but he knew he wouldnt be good. If he was lucky, the other man didn't think anything of it. But Marik was very perceptive, and there was a chance he would ask about it, or initiate another kiss, something Bakura did not want.

Right?

Bakura's thoughts cut off as he suddenly caught a whiff of something nasty. It made his nose curl and fangs tingle with hostility. The scent was coming from Marik's apartment, making him rush to the door and force it open. He was met with an absolute mess and the sickening stench of blood from the stain on the carpet. He knew this was Marik's blood.

The scent was almost overwhelmed however by a stronger one. One he thought he had merely caught whiffs of beforehand, but never thought anything of it. He cursed himself for not realizing what this scent was before:

A demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't try lubeless anal sex at home, kids.
> 
> [1] Asad is an Arabic name meaning lion. I thought it was an appropriate name for Yami Marik.
> 
> [2] Flesh by Simon Curtis

**Author's Note:**

> [1] Song is Hypnotized by Simon Curtis.
> 
> Sorry, I don't know how to format AO3, but the lyrics were italicized.
> 
> Also, comments are nice.


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